Ivar and Lofn
by Lofndotter
Summary: The Story of Ivar and his Lofn, his otherworldly lover and instrument of fate. The gods have set them on a path and brought them together but can they handle what the gods have set fourth? (Ivar/OC) and OC/Halfdan the black. Based on Historical accounts,saga but using the lovely people cast :) enjoy!
1. Introduction

Ivar and Lofn

Introduction.

Authors note and disclaimer: Let it be known that I love the television show but I've always been interested in Viking history and lore, so while I use many of the aspects of the show, I'll also be turning to historical and mythological sources to make somewhat of a hybrid. Plus, Ivar is sexy, hehehe. I'll be somewhat ageing them up, so Ivar is around 22ish to start.

Enjoy!

I own nothing by my O.C's

A frantic inhale of air filled her starved lungs, it was crisp and cool and her skin prickled at the light breeze grazing over. She expected to feel panic, for this was hardly the same state she had been left in not moments before. In fact, it was a far cry from the agonizing moments before the life was stolen from her body. The brunette filled her lungs once more with a steady, humble intake and propped her body up, pushing away at the mossy earth with strong palms.

It was hard to imagine something so breathtaking as this. Her eyes took in a lush field of green, kissed with bright, yellow azaleas in miss matched patches. A small brook babbled in the distance, birds chirped a delightful songs whilst soaring between oak and pine trees. This scene was impossible, the raw beauty was nonexistent in her world. Her eyes gazed up to a sky so blue that it temporarily blinded her sight.

She was dead. Yes, that was certain, it had not been a mere dream and this could not be so either. Perhaps it was a dream, yet, in dreams she could never feel the fresh earth beneath her, or the wind brushing against her bare flesh. She could not feel the sensation of clean, crisp air filling her lungs with a life force, or the rapidly growing thump in her heart. This was too real.

And there it was, the panic constricting her chest at this strange realization.

Where was she? Why was she here? Where are the city lights, the bright billboards? The brick and mortar concrete jungle she lived in was no where to be found. Instead she was naked, in the middle of a vibrant place that felt too familiar and still, shook her to her core. Shaking knees straightened as she stood, trying to conceal her bare chest from the elements, the trees began to blur into wobbly clouds of green, the birds songs sounded like a hellish screech . She steadied herself, playing it over and over in her head, so her eyes focused on a patch of Azaleas brighter than the sun. There was one flower with petals so uneven that it stood out from the rest, it was beautifully flawed and she was drawn to it. It was just like the dream that had played out while she slumbered peacefully so many times before was become more clear with every passing second.

It was different this time, she could could feel the fuzzy stem between her fingers, touch the velvety petals, take in the pleasant scent. The young woman felt a lone, hot tear trickle from her left eye and a light sob escaped past her lips. Was this the afterlife or a slow tease of ecstasy before fading away into nothing? Her grandmother had always described it as something more exciting than her mothers Catholic priests. Her dearest Danish Grandmother told her tales of feasting in golden halls where the music played on and the ale in your horn never ran dry. A place where your loved ones awaited your arrival to spend eternity together in mirth and luxury, but there were no golden doors crested in runes.

A rattle of leaves pulled her attention to a bewildered stag, its beady eyes recognized her as an immediate threat. She knew the steps of this dance, it would charge with its pointed antlers ready to pierce delicate flesh. It stomped its heavy hooves and huffed a warning, the brunette tried to move her legs but like her apparitions of so many nights prior, they were glued to the mossy ground. The great beast of a deer reared its front legs and almost roared out before charging towards her, she closed her amber eyes and waited with baited breath. Despite knowing full well the outcome, in her heart she was certain death would claim her twice this day.

A blood curdling yelp caused her to jump, she opened her eyes to see a perfectly placed arrow skewering the games eye socket. She exhaled abruptly and looked up, her eyes were met with the most beautiful, rich, impossibly blue eyes. They were so familiar but, so unknown and that same conclusion had been reached in the opposing pair.

The young woman never made it passed this point in the dream, the blue eyes would fade away and her body would jolt awake in her own bed, drenched in sweat and her heart pumping rapidly. She would never be able to go back to sleep after that, she would always need a tall glass of water and a moment of cold, fresh air to bring her back.

This time the eyes did not fade into nothing.

They were part of young mans face, one whom appeared to be her own age, give or take a few years. There was a roughness to his facade a history of pain in his eyes that had been overcome by an overpowering strength she could feel projecting onto her. A warm, delicious shiver ran down her spine, her eyes gleamed, her heart beat quickened. His face was ruggedly gorgeous, with high cheekbones and a strong stubble kissed jawline, a small but noticeable scar marred his skin beneath his right eye, he was grinning wide now. It was a mischievous, cheeky one at this very moment, but she could tell he was the type of man with many a smirk with plenty different meanings.

Fuck. She realized now, he had become aware of her state of undress. Her hands covered her exposed sex, the lengths of her wavy hair covered her ample chest but she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

"A brawny stag and a naked goddess, and before midday."

His voice was smooth, deep and full of a dangerous glee. What surprised her most was the language rolling off his tongue, one she understood completely and inexplicably.

It was her own voice that shocked her, the very same language as if she had spoken it her entire life.

" Please, stop looking!"

He chuckled out in response.

The tall, broad man pulled off his brown, embroidered tunic and her eyes widened at the sight of his toned torso, small, pale streaks marred different parts but she turned her gaze to the ground. She cursed herself, to be enamoured by a stranger because his eyes seemed familiar to her own, reduced to a silly girl ogling a shirtless man. The garment came into view and she reached for it, but he pulled it from her grasp.

" Tell me your name and I'll let you cover your beautiful body."

Gods, his voice was hypnotic.

No- She mentally punched herself. 'You're an intelligent young woman, pull yourself together.' How is this all still even happening? She couldn't simply continue on naked like this so she would have to play his little game.

" Lofn." She spoke out, expecting him to burst out in laughter as most had in her lifetime. It was a silly name to some, but one she cherished because it was chosen by her father and grandmother.

It was then, in that moment the weight of reality began to hit her, roughly. If this was her state of death, if this served as her own afterlife then she would never see her father again. Lofn held out hope that somewhere in this lush, green glade her grandmother would greet her with open arms but the grief was over powering.

A wretched sob shook her body, her vision became blurry as darkness crept in.

The young man caught her in his arms, her skin was cold to the touch but she did not shiver. Pretty thing she was, especially this way but he could not help feel familiar in her lovely eyes. He had been told by the seer, when he spoke of his dreams about a girl with flaming eyes that would stave the cruelty that resided in his heart. A woman from another world entirely.

It was out of character for him to show much kindness to anyone, verbally or otherwise. It was not his fault, only the result of torment and pain building a shield around him. Reluctant in his actions, he covered her body with his garment and decided to send a slave to retrieve. The young prince moved with a residual limp, but he was stronger than his fully mobile brothers in most aspects. This Lofn had lovely round curves, but she was no burden to carry onto his horse. He would keep this one, to serve him well.


	2. A sight to behold

A/N: First off, thanks so much for all the reads and reviews! I'm very appreciative and I have a lot of hopes for this story. I've been obsessed with Viking history since I was a young girl, so this is lots of fun for me.

Enjoy!

Chapter One: A Sight to Behold.

It was a rarity, for Ivar Lodbrok to come across any living creature that he did not want to harm in some way. It had always been a constant urge at the front of his mind and only deemed to imprint itself further when he had first drawn blood many years ago. Most Northmen enjoyed killing like any man savours a choice cut of game, but to Ivar, death was the entire feast.

He was unlike the others when they were without battle, chasing any hole they could fit. Ivar was particular in his endeavours, his brothers could never come off it, they would whisper about his inability but it hardly bothered him. It was easy to get hard, his childhood hardships did not hinder such things, staying aroused had been another challenge, however. They were always too blonde, too thin, too familiar. He had spent all his years surrounded by these Danes and collectively, they all appeared the same, with their dull blue eyes and grey complexions. So he had given up.

He had devoted his time to learning strategy by studying others mistakes, his cunning, and ruthless nature had coveted the fear of Kattegat and beyond. However, despite all this he grew bored of it, entirely. Ivar was bored of their old reverence, their golden hair and flat conversations of the woman trying to win his heart and the men competing for a place in his army. His brothers had been no better, refusing to agree on a method of attack against the treacherous kings of England. Their fathers death had to be revenged and they were wasting too much precious time, eating, fucking and laughing, time that could be spent cutting the delicate throats of Christians.

Just at the right moment, as if aligned by the gods themselves, a distraction found its way too him. He had been hunting for game early that morning, it had been too long since he had killed something that he had become desperate for bloodshed. Ivar could satisfy his cravings for at the very least, for a morning. He had been tracking the tawny stag for a few miles before following it to a clearing of azaleas, still dewy from the night. He had caught sight of her for a brief second, until the sound of a threatened tremor of hooves lurched forward on a war path. His arrow was knock and loose before each party could intake breath. Her eyes were fixated on his, the gaze of familiarity causing a stir of emotions to hit his chest. Since he was old enough to remember dreaming, these big, eyes brighter than a blazing hearth had shown themselves.

He had asked his mother once what it had meant but even she knew nothing of it, or perhaps she did but never spoke of it. The seer had given him a jumble of words instead of an answer, 'Amber eyes that will bear pain and grief. Grief that will end the lives of so many.' Ivar was as clever as ten men but even this was indecipherable in his mind. Perhaps the seer had a clearer vision now.

"Runa will wish to know,"

Ivar found himself freed from his own thoughts as the voice of Ubbe roused him to straighten in his chair. He had hardly touched the fresh mead in his cup and meant to remedy it, he guzzled it down and shot his older brother a hard look. Ah yes, Runa, the old healer, another living soul he did not wish to harm because she had helped him find his footing.

Ivar nodded, "Send someone to collect her then," he filled his cup with more honey drenched alcohol. He would rather be looking at this Lofn sleep than listen to another word, from any other person in the room. Her name had made him smile when she spoke it, he felt a rush of comfort in his bones. The title was already living up to the namesake. Her lack of fear had surprised him, even in such a venerable state that she was in there was a daring glint in her eyes when she scolded his wandering gaze. She was a sight to behold.

For the first time in his life, Ivar wanted to allow his eyes to wander once more. Her body was delightful, to put it politely. He didn't want to be polite about it though, and had to catch himself in the same way he refrains from slicing into those around him. The curves of her body were soft and round, not sharp and angular like every naked woman he had ever laid eyes upon in Kattegat.

"Did she say anything, Ivar?"

Hvitserk had joined the conversation Ivar was unaware of in progress.

He was visibly annoyed at the disruption of his pleasant thoughts, he leaned into the table, head crooked and stated, simply. "She told me to stop looking at her naked body and her name. Then she fainted."

"At the sight of your face most likely." Sigurd jested.

If it had been any of his other brothers, the terrible joke would have gone all but unnoticed, there was a bitterness between the two youngest that had erupted many a times into a violent frenzy.

He stood from the table, slamming the horn down, and it was the heavy fist of Bjorn that held Ivar back.

"She has stirred, Ivar."

Torvi's soft voice and white-blonde hair came into view. Five sets of eyes fell upon her but the most piercing of all those gazing began to walk forward with great urgency.

 _The smell of fresh bread and stew filled her nostrils as her light feet padded across the pinewood floors as she followed that delicious smell. The white hallway ended into a bright kitchen, the granite island was covered in fresh goods and plentiful bounty of herbs were hanging from the ceiling to dry out. This was a comforting place, one of laughter and joy and, vegetable stew. There was a mumble of words she could not make out until salt and pepper hair, plaited and coiled came into view. Grey eyes worn by age crinkled at the happiest sight. Her words were more clear now, "Wake up Lofn, go to him, go." " To who grandmother?"_

" _Wake up, Lofn."_

 _She said it again, she would not pry a smile from her face, she could not hear. The smell of bread and boil fell from her nostrils and the kitchen grew dark. Lofn reached out to her grandmother but her hands cut through like a knife through a cloud."Amma!" She cried. "Amma!"_

 _She was fading away, 'wake up, wake up' the words were like a song. Then._

 _Nothing._

Her eyes shot open and she sat up with a hasty breath. Lofn wanted to cry, wanted to hold onto someone or something familiar, but as she looked around the room dimmed by candlelight, she found only more confusion. High wooden beams with intricate carvings and ornate, detailed furniture covered almost every inch of ground or wall. The embers of a fire were dying in the hearth, but the furs around her body kept it warm.

She stood from the bed, she looked down to the brown tunic that fell to the middle of her thighs and began to remember. Lofn recalled the broad body and striking, familiar eyes it belonged to. She didn't even know the mans name or his intentions. Mind you, she hardly knew how she arrived in that field to begin with but her resiliency would soon take over. He seemed the best possible option to gauge some sort of assessment or any ounce of information to decipher what was happening.

The sound of urgent, heavy footsteps sounded behind the heavy doors, and her first instinct was to grab onto something as a weapon. She spied an actual weapon on a dark wooden desk and grabbed at the carved handle of the curved dagger. Lofn tried to steady her shaking hands as the doors opened to man from the clearing, the one who had brought her here. Without thinking, she lowered the dagger and he strode in with a limped gait and look of concern that changed into relief, then into an amused grin.

"That is not how you hold a dagger, Lofn."

He teased and sat down into an oversized chair, he pushed his legs out and slouched back.

"How do you know my name?"

She pointed the blade but her grip was still off completely, she would hurt herself before she even made a dent in his skin. "You told it to me, before to fainted." he paused. "now put the dagger down, if I wanted to kill you then I would not have let you sleep in my bed."

His smile was quite literally disarming, but he wasn't wrong by her own logic. She put down the dagger but still stood tall, the crippling anxiety she had upon waking before had all but settled into a somewhat comfortable humming. Lofn could never let it grip her like that again, her audacious nature would allow no more wiggle room.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"I told you," he paused, his eyebrow cocked and his smile mischievous, "In my room."

Lofn rolled her eyes in response "You know what I meant."

He stood now. She was sure it was to get the measure of her, perhaps it was contributed to her almost unnoticeable sass but she was beginning to think he was a man that missed nothing.

He stood tall, seemingly more so because of his frame and physical presence. In reality he was a few inches taller even though it seemed ten feet at this moment.

"Kattegat." he spoke softly and she was comforted by the tone of his voice.

Wait.

Kattegat, how did she get here? Her grandmother had been born and raised near Alborg and Lofn had spent so many summers in her youth, but the only of said place had been mentioned as a straight. Maybe she was on an island or on the coastline, they had just referred to it as such. She racked her brain for possibilities, but other then a man part of some kind of role play group, nothing was piecing together. She was sure she had died, yet here she stood once more in front of eyes that had stalked her dreams at night.

Lofn repressed an inexplicable need to reach out for an embrace, there was a natural heat that called to her and in truth what she needed most was a hard, solid hug.

"What is your name?" her voice was hushed, her heart racing violently.

The man leaned into her ear, his lips hovering over the sensitive cartilage.

"Ivar. Ivar Lodbrok."

Her knees threatened to buckle. She had heard that name so many times before, whether in a saga repeated by her grandmother like a prayer or from the worn books in her fathers library. It was a name associated with greatness, cruelty and intelligence. There was no possible way he stood in front of her now, so close she could smell the earthly scent of his leather jerkin mixed with fresh pine from a hunt. That his penetrating, cerulean gaze had been the one haunting her dreams all these years.

Lofn felt unsteady at the rush of awareness, she gripped onto his light armour for stability and she felt his warm hands holding onto her waist. She found his eyes once more and found a steady footing.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ivar."

She expected there to be a great fear residing in her heart, she was aware of every action, every battle, every sin and still, did not waver.

Had it not been for the interruption of a blonde woman she did not know, pushing Ivar out, she was unsure of what she would have done next.


	3. Venison and the Magic of Mead

Chapter two:

Venison and the Magic of Mead

A/N: First of all, I'd just like to say a big thank you to everyone that's been supporting and reading. I'm having a lot of fun with it. Also, if you're wondering why Ivar is walking, I'm going with Historical depiction and theory that "Boneless" was interpreted as a metaphor to battle prowess. He did have brittle bones in youth but it was possible training and diet could have overcome it..In my version it will all make sense, I promise.

Skol!

The aggressive tugging at her scalp was most certainly real, Lofn flinched when she felt the heavy handed touch of the woman named, Torvi. It would make sense in her head that perhaps this beautiful blonde woman was a lover of Ivar, taking out her frustration on Lofn and her dark locks. How infuriating it would be to find a woman in the bed of the man you love, then to be ordered to cater to them. The blunt question should be asked, to save her locks the pain of more torment.

"How long have you and Ivar-"

There is a distinct outburst of laughter from behind and her hair is dropped, the white haired woman came to face Lofn.

"Gods no," She paused, her hazel eyes alight with proud affection, "I am Bjorns wife."

Lofn had to refrain from asking again, did she hear her correctly? Instead, she nodded casually, as if that name meant nothing. She had memorized most of the sagas, listening intently to her grandmother and father retell them with such vigour. This culture, hundreds of years in the past had been such an integral part to her upbringing; whether it be her grandmother teaching her skills like weaving and metal working or her father refusing to label the holiday season as anything other than Yule, it was there. It was engraved into her makeup, The danish blood had overpowered her mothers roots in Portugal.

"Well, now that I know you are not Ivars scorned lover, perhaps you could go easy on my scalp."

Humour seemed the best option now.

Torvi covered her eyes, embarrassment clear on her features.

"I am so very sorry. I have only boys and they have yet to need plaiting. Someone else has always done my own, or Bjorn some days."

Lofn could not stagger the snicker that danced from her lips. There was a look of concern in Torvi's eyes at the sudden outburst but Lofn was quick to explain.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I am picturing a strong, mighty warrior braiding the hair of his wife."

Torvi thought about the reasoning for mere seconds before bursting out into laughter. It was certain that the wife of Bjorn Ironside would now remember this meeting of words every time her husband sat behind her, braiding delicate locks of hair into plaits more perfect and precise that any servant could manage.

"I'm sure I can do something with my hair, I remember the way my Amma would fix it."

Torvi let out a sigh of relief, she enjoyed the spirit of this new woman, and thought it better they get to know one another in the time before they took supper. She smiled, watching Lofn gather her rich, wavy ,earthen locks into a loosely coiled weave of four thick parts. Lofn looked up, there was a mischievous glint in the eyes of the fair haired woman, she held out a chalice filled with a amber liquid.

With nothing to lose, Lofn drank it down. It was mead and of that she was certain, having spent her childhood sneaking sips during family gatherings, and the sweet, warmth of the beverage brought her back to those jovial times.

Lofn wanted this to be resolved, she wished desperately in that moment that Torvi was not part of this grand illusion she had built up in her mind. That she had been pulled from a wreckage and induced into a coma that resulted in a deep dream like state that conjured up scenes of tales that brought her such contentment in life.

Four brothers sat at a stained, oak table, too large for even their battle hardened frames. They all looked at each other with a great mirthful glee at the sound of the two women giggling from Ivars chambers.

"It seems she will have to stay now, Ivar. It sounds as though my wife will make sure of it."

Bjorn grinned widely, trying to gauge the current temperament of his youngest, most unpredictable brother. Much to his surprise, Ivar was attempting to hide his delight.

"She must be something to desire, for someone as picky as Ivar to take such an interest." Ubbe concluded.

Ivar would never divulge such inner workings of his dreams or desires apart from the desire to spill blood to any of his brothers, not even Ubbe, whom he trusted most out of all. In truth he was only beginning to work things out in his mind, the eyes that followed him in dream and brought comfort to his soul were now faced in front of him. Those eyes belonged to a face and body so lovely that even the gods themselves could not have conjured up something more suited to him, but he imagined that others would find it so as well. The thought of such brought his anger to a front and a foul mood began to stir its way to the surface of his being.

He is meant to rebuttal, to add a clever spin to it but he is silenced like the rest of them when Torvi enters with Lofn. The brunettes high, round cheeks were flushed with the obvious magic of mead and the alcohol was warming her soul. Ivar ignores the boldfaced stares of his kin at the tall beauty dressed in a simple, woollen green gown and, dark hair plaited into a simple, singular weave. Ivar pointed silently to the chair across from him at the far side of the large table. His eyes did not leave hers as the table piled up with some simple fare of venison, root vegetables, bread, and nuts.

The group of now six began to eat in an awkward state of awareness at the tension building in the air between Lofn and Ivar. There was a noticeable force at hand and a painfully obviously fixation on Ivar's part. One no brother had seen from him before, it was as if all the years of pent up energy had been poured into his gaze which was transfixed on her, and held with the same intensity he gained before battle.

"Lofn told me she was training as a healer but finds peace in metal working."

Ubbe flashed a surprised and charmed smile in the direction of the already flushed young woman's direction.

"You are a blacksmith? Certainly the prettiest one I have ever seen."

Lofn rewarded the bright eyed viking with a sweet smirk.

"I'm sure I could make a sword with proper instruction, but I am more comfortable with the likes of small articles, jewelry mostly." She replied.

The direct heat of Ivars gaze was enough to draw the very breath from her body, it was so difficult to look away from its magnetic quality. She distracted herself with a chunk of white carrot, savouring the roasted texture and quelling the very real hunger she was starting to feel. She looked around to eyes similar to Ivar but none with the same gleaming, dangerous and, stormy glow. It was obvious to Lofn that Bjorn was the one seated next to her newly christened friend but the others were illusive to her brain swirling with the effects of mead.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ivar spoke with his main goal of catching her gaze once more.

" The one closest to you is Ubbe, then sigurd, Hvitserk, Bjorn and you know Torvi."

His eyes danced with her own as he took a hearty bite of venison, ripping into the gamey flesh. Lofn pulled herself from him again and she took low, deep and shallow breaths to calm the budding swirl of heat in her core.

"Pleasure to meet you all, I am Lofn."

She could hear their greetings like whispers in the wind whilst remaining both engrossed and terrified in the stirring of emotions Ivar invoked.

The sounding of the heavy wooden doors creaked open and a powerful gust of brisk wind pushed a chill up her spine. Every instinct cried out her her to rise and turn. Without any thought her body moved all on its own, she dropped her chalice of mead and it spilled all over the hard, stony floor.

Grey eyes, worn down by age were crinkled into a wide grin of elation, the same coiled plait was pinned on top of a now completely white head of hair. Lofn almost choked on a sob of complete and utter disbelief. The Vikings, the mead and venison were one thing, but a ghost now stood plainly in front of her with long arms spread to welcome as a single tear fell down a time worn cheek. "Lofn." the words all but a whisper on her lips.

"Amma!" She choked, steadying herself to the floor.

The magical force of the mead had run dry in an instant, the moment had sobered her in an instant. Lofn all but knocked the chair over as she sped forward, clinging onto her grandmother and weeping into her form.


	4. A new Reality

Chapter Three:

A New Reality.

Tears of joy and of disbelief fell freely from the wide, amber eyes of Lofn. The elder woman rubbed soothing circles of protection on the back of her beloved granddaughter. It had been far too long since she had last seen her and she recalled a different face, one far more round and innocent. over ten years without her shining little face and eager disposition to learn all she could teach her, to prepare for a destiny yet to be realized. Runa silently praised the gods for their grace on the young woman, her Lofn had grown into a beautiful young woman, inheriting the best of both sides, exotic to their standards of women here but, a Dane for certain. The older woman wiped the tears from her eyes and touched the round, defined cheeks of her most treasured kin to make sure she was a part of this reality.

"Amma," Lofn whispered, "I am dead then? I must be."

The question caused a frown to curl downwards on the old healers face, she was serious in her tone, holding her granddaughters face between wrinkled hands.

"No, no my sweet Lofn. You are very much alive and in the place you truly belong."

Runa watched with slight amusement at the shift in the young woman's visage. She was perplexed and utterly awestruck, the two emotions battled for dominance inside and fighting it out on the surface.

There was a knot budding her stomach, a blocking cluster of strangling panic reaching her throat. Lofn needed air. She had only experienced two panic attacks in the entirety of her 22 years on earth, but this burgeoning flame of dread had set the tips of even her toes on fire. Her grandmother tried to hold her steady, but she pushed her hands from her face and moved to push out trough the heavy doors.

Lofn tried to inhale slowly and deeply and, she staggered onwards following the scent of salted sea. The Ocean always brought a great sense of relief when in great distress and her legs moved towards the calming waves with no help from her preoccupied mind.

How could this be?

How could her long deceased grandmother have been standing in front of her, holding her and drawing soothing patterns on her back as she did in life? Absurd was the only word to describe it in this moment, but once past its preposterous nature, a looming cloud of mourning cast a bleak shadow over her heart. Her legs had made it to the shore and collapsed onto her knees into damp sand. Lofn would never laugh with her friends again, never finish nursing school or hear her fathers lightly accented voice in person or over the phone when her day had been terrible. Lofn released a raspy lament of melancholy across the waters, hoping that whomever brought her to this place would hear it and know their mistake.

Her breathing began to steady and she inhaled the essence of briny waves. They must have thought her a great fool to have run out like that in such a state of personal chaos. They would all deem her a lunatic for sure. In her defence, the sight of a long passed and much adored relative would be difficult for even the sanest of human beings to comprehend.

Lofn could hardly appreciate the full scale of beauty the moon reflected on the bay, her eyes were glazed by hot tears and her mind focused on solid inhaling and exhaling. The light footstep of her grandmother went all but unnoticed if not for the jingling of beads danging from her neck. Lofn refused to look up, forbidding herself from legitimizing her words.

The warmth of furs covered her shoulders and ceased the shivering she was unaware of.

"I brought this for you, with some clothes to get you through, winter is fast approaching."

Runa stood beside her, gazing at the moon. She smiled wistfully to herself, thinking on the times she taught Lofn how to pick the right rocks for runes and dig for shellfish in the low tide. How the dark haired little girl would squeal and giggle when a clam would spray sea water from its tiny hole in the sand. She was not that little girl anymore and twelve long years had passed since Runa's sudden departure from that plain into her rightful one.

Lofn's hands instinctively grazed the ground in front of her, feeling for smooth, flat stones and her fingers gripped onto one tightly.

"I know this is difficult-"

The young brunettes head snapped to face the one she still considered to be an illusion and interrupted her words.

"Difficult?" She scoffed and shook her head, "This is far beyond difficult Amma, this is impossible."

In the shadows of the shore, Ivar, his brothers and Torvi had hidden themselves beneath the arches of the docks. They were all puzzled by the sudden outburst of the mysterious young woman and desired answers without having to really ask.

It was Ivar that paid most mind, his eyes focused on the sheer ferocity of Lofns tone and the beaming moonlight that cast an ethereal glow on upon her. She stood up, paying no mind to the muddy sand caked on the lower part of her gown, the fur had been discarded when she rose.

"Not impossible. Have you forgotten all my lessons? All your father taught you?"

At the mention of her father, Lofn let loose the flat stone with an audible, pained grunt.

"Folk tales and basket weaving?"

Runa was becoming more frustrated with her grandchild's denial. She expected hesitation yes, but not a complete wall of built of brick and stubbornness.

"You are a ghost, an illusion." Her voice broke, the dread and rage had been replaced by a great sorrow for she knew in her heart her words were not true.

The old woman grabbed onto her forearms and held her tightly. " Do I feel like an illusion Lofn? Look at me"

She forced her gaze and new tears formed when Lofn stared into comforting grey eyes. Eyes that were very real and present but questions still arose as if she knew what she was about to ask, Runa replied.

"The Gods brought you here, where you truly belong. Look inside your heart my sweet girl. You know this to be true, you have always known it."

The young woman allowed those words to coat her psyche. It all came crashing down into a thunderous storm of awareness, like the feeling of ease even when she had woken naked in a field of azaleas. Or the countless dreams plucking her from the modern comforts and bringing her into this world. The runes found in odd places, the manner she had learned to cook, the endless tales of lore and past events. Lofn had been drawn to it all, books would all but leap from shelves into her hands, the pages turning themselves and willing her to memorize every written detail.

She fell into her grandmothers arms, holding onto her for dear life as she excepted her new reality with all the strength she could muster. She could cry no longer, her body tired and will ever enduring and instead held onto her onto her Amma and she helped her silently back to the longhouse to settle her into a guest room.

The others had looked onto the beach with wide, astonished eyes but Ivar heard the words spoken and internalized those thoughts as if they were a second skin. Not one word had shocked him, if anything they brought clarity to thoughts and reverie that were years old. He stayed behind on the docks to watch her leave and admire her figure against the dying light of the torches.

A cold shiver ran down his back. The uncertain sensation trickled from the base of his neck to the end of his spine. He was being watched, being surveyed by a messenger of the gods. He craned his neck, turning his attention east. All but faceless, the seer gawked with a discerning look upon his crackled, eyeless face.

Ivar Lodbrok was being summoned.

He cringed at the thought. He simply wished to follow his gut, to pursue the foreign beauty handpicked by Frigg, by Odin, Thor, Ein and perhaps, even Loki himself, but he hoped this was all no trick. He would travel across the plains, stalk through Valhalla and enter the Jotunheim to rip out the heart of the trickster god, if this was all meant to be a game. Ivar understood battle, he lusted for blood and victory and vengeance but the hearts of women were a deep mystery. Even the most seasoned man in tuned with the flesh of a woman could not work out their emotional needs and Ivar was intelligent enough to know that he could not simply throw Lofn over his shoulder and carry her away.

It was all much more than that.

From the very moment he gazed upon her, he wanted her no matter the cost and no matter how many lives would be taken nor how many countries he had to conquer, she was meant for him. He would decimate and vanquish the entire world, turn kingdoms into ash if it meant she would belong solely to him.


	5. Hunter Gatherer

A/N: I'm seriously so surprised and really grateful for everyone in supporting my little story here. If anyone had questions or suggestions for events or such that they would like to see or even to just say hi, don't be shy, drop me a PM.

Thanks again,

Enjoy!

Chapter 4:

Hunter Gatherer.

Assimilation had not been a task too daunting after all. Lofn had found her stride quickly by helping her grandmother whelp babes and prepare poultices, and she had even spent time playing with Torvi and Bjorns boys. Refil and Erik were two of the blondest little things she had ever laid eyes upon, their light blue eyes were filled with such mischief. Out of the brothers, it was Erik that was the smaller of the two, a little wisp of a five year old that followed her everywhere she walked. Refil would be 12 soon and accompanying his father on their grave task of revenge. Lofn worried for the boy almost her own height, and she had been considered tall for a woman. She had to constantly remind herself that things worked differently here. In this culture, in this time, he was close to manhood and exposure to battle would seal his fate in becoming a great warrior like his father.

That truth hardly made the realization any easier to accept and she often wondered about what this new future may bring her. Perhaps, one day she would birth sons that would be striped of childhood and taught to kill the sons of other mothers. She had not been faced with such thoughts as these before and chose to put them aside rather than dwell.

She had risen early this morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunrise before the small kingdom roared to life. Most mornings in the past month were spent sleeping a little after sunrise. Some days, if there had been a long birthing or patient with a rampant fever or, the twisting of her arm to partake in few horns of ale or mead, she would swap the dusty rose wonderment for some shut eye. The sons of Ragnar Lodbrok were good company, her glass had barely remained empty in all the time she had been a guest in their home. Her ears never missed a compliment or quick tease, but it was Ubbe that enjoyed taunting her the most and always with an impish grin and flirty quip. Ivar was quick to defend her, no matter how harmless the jab but it did not deter his older brother from having a little fun every chance he could get.

Last night however, had taken a stormy turn. Ubbe had brought attention to her hands, "They are so delicate, are you sure you are a Dane?" He had jested with a smirk. The state of her hands did not bother him in the slightest, they were a welcome sight compared to most other calloused and cracked appendages. But Ivar had been agitated the moment he had come into the home to dine and the ease of his brothers ability to speak so freely to Lofn had sent him over the edge. "Her hands do not belong to you! They are no concern of yours!" His voiced boomed and bellowed so deeply and enriched with such an envious ire that she had jumped in fear.

Ivar had cursed himself when he caught sight of her beautiful ochre eyes filling with unease at this outburst. He had thought then, momentarily that he had lost all chance to have her for his own, however, she had found her own resolve in flash. Her white teeth peaked out from behind large, flushed lips in a demure smile that all but knocked the wind from his body.

Lofn then spoke up. "Would you prefer rugged, sharp hands apply poultice Ubbe? I can go summon Floki if you're in need of a rub down." It had been her turn to grin with cheeky glint to her eyes.

The table had erupted in laughter and she had truly wished in that moment she had a camera to capture the embarrassed blush on Ubbe's face, whose then recovered with a large sip of mead.

Lofn had caught Ivar's gaze to see a smirk of pride meant for her eyes only and they raised a silent toast to one another.

She didn't know how to categorize their relationship, or if she would even consider it as such. Torvi had become her friend, Ubbe as well, and she considered the others to border the line of friend and acquaintance. Yet, there was Ivar, beautiful, afflicted, and complicated Ivar. Their encounters were usually quick, fleeting or, interrupted but there was a great tension and connection unlike anything she had ever felt before. Lofn had never been so attracted to one person, so much so that even the accidental touching of a hand caused her insides to buzz with delight. He would always ask her how each day went if their schedules met and she would always answer no matter how tired and he would always seem interested no matter how boring the event.

Other than the odd touch, brief stare, or bold (albeit unnecessary) defending of her character against Ubbe's playful jabs Ivar gave her nothing else to go on.

Her grandmother had refused any information, claiming the seer would tell her in due time and had left it at that. It was hard to argue with a woman as fierce and stubborn as Runa, especially when the other party was similar in character. She would provide the young woman with cryptic answers claiming destiny and fate with no further comment other than mentioning an invisible seer. Of course Lofn would then ask about this said entity responsible for prophecy and would be met with a frustrating "The seer will find you when you're ready to be found."

It was as if every cliched odd was out in the open, taking pleasure in teasing her mind and soul, mind you, everything about this situation thus far was simply exorbitant. To break fast with legendary men and the women that kept them, (whom had been mostly undocumented) was absurd and surreal all at once.

For almost her entire life she had been educated in their history and beguiled by their tales of conquest and victory. But now she sat, in the presence of such revered heroes of their people and time and was witness to very human traits. They were large and rough but flawed and marvellous for it. It made it hard to accept that she was in the company of men that would claim the lives of so many, no matter how purely rooted in love their cause may be. It affected her spirit to know that she was falling in love with a man that would one day flay the skin and bones from another mans body, a man that would devour villages and kingdoms in the name of retribution. She tried not to dwell on it, or the unnerving matter of her budding acceptance to the violent nature of the new men in her life.

Lofn found herself a seat upon the same enigmatic boulder she had perched upon for the past few weeks. Its magical properties were attributed to its sudden appearance after she had made a silly complaint about the muck forcing her to change. Ubbe and Sigurd had torn into her with friendly jeers and she retracted the statement almost instantaneously, deeming herself too wimpy. That next evening, after helping deliver a particularity stubborn babe it sat, grey and shimmering in moonlight awaiting her near daily reflections. Of course, she had a grand idea of how or more precisely whom brought it there but he would never give an inch or possibly admit to a sweet act such as that. Instead she had picked the flattest, deepest coloured stone she could find, carved a protection rune and strung it with thick, black leather. It had taken a few hours of the spare time afforded to her but she had finished it last night, then with glee she placed it under his door not minutes ago.

The modern Viking woman smiled to herself imagining his reserved reaction to the gesture of thanks but she hoped with all her heart that he would accept it. Lofn knew it would be easily figured out, it was not as if Sigurd, Hvitserk, Ubbe or even Bjorn would bestow such a gift, unless it was made of wood and steel and had an innate capacity to kill. Ivar would know it had been her hand that procured and carved out every detail to suite his taste, her sentiment decreed.

She inhaled a shaky breath now, feeling anxious at the thought of his rejection but the rising sun was quick to draw her attention. It was a dazzling, heart stopping sight to witness a sunrise in its purest form. Fuchsia melted into rose-gold hues before exploding into an unfiltered, sienna sun that had yet to be tampered with by modern machinery and industry. The same could be said by the lush field and abundance of green, with the sweetest air ever breathed by her lungs. Every day she missed her old life and the comforts it brought less and less, this world and the people in it were filling a void she had felt missing for the grossed span of her lifetime.

With the sun still low but lighting her path, she filled the new void in her stomach with day old brown bread, walnuts and blackberries. It fuelled her for a less than arduous journey to her grandmothers home on the outskirts of the small kingdom centre. It would take only an hour for most, but Lofn took great pleasure in the journey. She enjoyed listening to the babbling of streams and delightful chirping of birds sharing a morning tune, at times she would smile and ignore the pestering commentary declaring that she was a bloody Disney princess frolicking in the woods. She doubted Aurora or Cinderella could see the purpose in collecting and putting herbs to use, and no matter how deeply she fell into affiliation with Ivar, she would remain herself. She would remain fierce, kind and unrelenting in spirit and moral. That made her nothing like those subservient princesses, devoid of any goals other than marriage.

She carried on, off the beaten path collecting the last of the blackberries, mint and a few sprigs of lanvender to infuse into oil for bathing. Her grandmother greeted her with the warmest of ageing smiles and tight hug, filling her with the greatest shot of affection. The log hut suited her more than her home in Alborg. Tanning and drying racks were set up outside and lined with furs, fish and herbs left smoking and dehydrating by a contained fire. Green moss covered the roof, tomes, trinkets and runes gave a rustic, fairy tale quality to the framework and invited good, happy and healing energy to the space. The moment she walked inside, her senses were assaulted with the smell of her famous stew boiling and perfecting itself over the cooking pit. Lofn unloaded the spoils from her stroll onto the worn wooden table, there was hardly any room with all the makings of ointments and countless dressing and teas to remedy a great deal of ailments. It was the inner workings of a apple and walnut pie that grabbed her attention and her hand reached out to sneak a taste -Whack!

A wooden spatula crashed down on her hand eliciting a sharp hiss from the young woman. She turned her attention to Amma, whom stood with a crooked brown and scolding 'Tsk Tsk' to which Lofn simply replied with a defiant show of her tongue and quick grab of the pie filling. She bit down with a silly rebellious gleam in her eyes and the older woman simply rolled her eyes.

" I missed even your mischief, my sweet girl."

She smiled and kissed the grey woman on her cheek and began work grinding down the mint leaves into a paste to mix with other ingredients, like charcoal for stomach aches. Some people would find this work tedious or utterly boring, but it was an important task to carry out, to hold the responsibility of someones wellness was one of the most revered. In her old life, Lofn was training to become a practical nurse and often saw the harm in some drugs and how impracticable, sometimes counter productive it was to pump these people full of things harming their conditions. There had hardly been a need for a naturalistic nurse in a world built off keeping the sick even more so, while big companies made profit off their suffering. At least here perhaps, her skills and knowledge of both modern and natural practice would be put to good use. There was nothing quite as satisfying as the sound of a healthy, screaming baby or the pride in a scar, even the gratitude bestowed after a broken fever. They would always thank the healer first and the gods second.

At midday, Lofn was finally able to to savour the long awaited return of the stew and it was glorious. Salty and hearty and full of roots and cabbage that would surely stick to her bones until the evening meal. Her Amma, having already eaten a bowl herself, had taken a load off on a soft bench facing the feasting young woman. Though her hands were not idle, they had never been so and she squinted her eyes to focus on stitching together some grey and white rabbit furs.

"What are you making Amma?" she spoke between bites.

"You'll need a cloak for the winter won't you?" She didn't even look up from her stitching, her eyesight was failing and the piece required full attention.

"Thank you, I don't want you to be troubled by it, I'm sure I can muster something."

"Save your pride, my darling, you have been very busy, let me do this. It's no miss piggy sweater but it will keep you plenty warm when the snows of winter hit."

She smiled lightly remembering the little bouncing braids of joy when she presented a five year old Lofn with the hand crafted sweater.

The young woman laughed out and grinned widely from ear to ear. "That was my favourite piece of clothing I ever owned."

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments more until Lofn asked something that had been on her mind for over a month now.

"What about my father?"

Runa froze in her actions, she had been avoiding this conversation by keeping the girl-no not a girl any longer, busy.

"The other healers are growing jealous now, you know." She tried to change the course, sway her question and act like a deaf old woman.

"Amma." Her voice was steady and undeterred.

With a heavy sigh, she placed the unfinished winter garment to the side and began to explain.

"He was aware."

"Aware of what?" Lofn was keeping her emotions in check, but these rebuttals were becoming unbearable.

Another deep breath, this time the older woman stood and moved to sit directly across from her granddaughter at the dining table. She held onto her hand, gripping it tightly to assure her that her words were marked with love.

"He was always aware, Odin himself came to your father when he didn't believe me about your rightful place."

"What do you mean rightful place? Why can't you tell me?" The composure in her voice was beginning to fade.

"It is not for me to tell you, your fate-"

"My fate!" She pulled her grip away and stood abruptly. "You had years to tell me, my father even more so to maybe mention,Hey! Your future is in the past, where you'll spend your days preparing poultices and breaking bread with fucking Vikings!"

Runa cringed at her beloved grandchild's use of such a profanity but she could understand and appreciate her anger. It was well placed and soon enough she would find the answers she so desperately sought out.

Lofn fought back bothered tears born of discontent, instead she focused on the pale lavender awaiting its fate to calm herself. The old healer waited a few seconds before speaking again with a hope to de-escalate the situation.

"My lovely Lofn, please. I know it's difficult to accept this reality much less accept my words as absolute but I am asking you to trust me. I promise you that you will have every answer you could possibility need."

She extended her arms, hoping to be rewarded with the embrace of the young woman she had left as a girl and despite all her frustrations, Lofn found herself clasping onto her grandmother in a show of her compliance.

Shortly after finishing her meal, Lofn left to return to Kaategatt, she had promised young Erik that she would teach him to pick the proper stones for carving. A smiled planted itself on her lips, she anticipated the pitter patter of his little feet trailing behind and the thumping of his brothers feet following even closer. Torvi had told Lofn two weeks prior that Refil had declared he would marry her the second he truly became a man, and so as a favour to her new friend, she had let him down softly.

'I'm too old for you Refil, by the time you are my age I'll be even older. You'll want a younger, prettier girl." She had tried to reason, but according to both the boys mother and father, it only spurred him on more.

Her attention was brought to the sound of whooshing through the trees followed by a heavy thwack. A natural curiosity had her limbs moving towards the familiar sound through the trees and heavy bush. Bird songs were rare when a bow and arrow was involved, that was the source of the sound. That same burst of air she vividly recalled from over a month ago. It was quicker and more distinct to all the other signatures she had both seen and heard. The bow wielder had an upper body that rivalled most others, her heart pace quickened as she stepped further through the thicket that cleared away into a patch of autumn ground littered by crisp, fallen leaves.

She thought it would be unwise to creep up, but she found herself enthralled completely by the sight before her. Ivar stood, ever the vigilant, adept hunter, bow-knocked and ready to release into the heavily abused target. With each he set loose there was an audible, throaty growl escaping his mouth. A thin sheet of sweat covered his scarred brow and, beautiful blue eyes were a light with a dangerous glow. His armour had been discarded and he wore the simple brown tunic he had given her to wear the day he had found her. She waited cautiously until he had used up every pointed weapon to draw his attention.

"Ivar?" It was almost a whisper but it did the job.

His head turned abruptly, the anger left his features and was replaced with something she could only describe as ardour and that intensity only associated with his personality.

Lofn did not command her feet to move forward for they did on their own accord.


	6. Honey

Chapter Five:

Honey

Ivar had always recalled how devoted both his mother and father were to the gods, Odin favoured Ragnar and his mother would often have answers to questions gone unasked. He had always been partial and accepted them with the basic faith of any Norseman but he considered them lucky to garner any loyalty from a boy they crippled in the womb. From birth to the age of twelve, Ivar carted his delicate legs around after being deemed too brittle to put any weight on and so, he crawled. He pulled his body through the muck and filth, through ice and snow, rubble and ash determined to prove his worth. He practised archery until his fingers peeled to the bone, he cut through stags and pigs until his older brothers agreed to spar. He never gave up but he never asked once for the mercy of Eir to heal him or to pull from the strength of the mighty Thor, this was his hardship but not his weakness. His anger turned into resilience and his resolve molded into courage and power and intelligence beyond his years. There was an acute cunning and mindfulness practices from a cruelty built to shield himself from hurt. It mattered not that he was the son of a king and supposed vessel of the gods, he had been born weak in their eyes and had suffered the scrutiny for it.

It was when he was a boy of thirteen, jealous of his brothers venturing over the sea to raid the Saxon kings that a kind and wise old woman with greying plaits spun atop her head made herself known to the small kingdom. Runa had quickly found herself in the company of Queen Aslaug and as a result, responsible for Ivar and his 'Condition'. Her approach had been contrasting to the others. She was a straight forward old healer with an explicit mouth and cared little for rank. Runa fed Ivar bone broth, and marrow to build up his physical brawn but it was the nature of her words that spurred him on.

'You can walk, boy.' She would say. 'My legs will break' Ivar would reply with venom in his cracking voice. She smiled knowingly then before declaring a simple truth.

'Your legs have listened to your mind, and your mind has listened to the fools around want to walk, so walk.'

Ivar had wanted to kill her then for such stupidity, but she had left him to contemplate. To go over every dream he had ever had about running into battle and fighting his enemies, cutting through them as if they were nothing. Of course he wanted to walk, he wanted to sprint and kick and spur on a great stallion through the thicket to hunt on horseback. He had spent the first thirteen years of his life being told his legs made him worthless, that no amount of strength his is broad torso and thick, fibrous arms would ever allow him to amount to anything. Ivar knew better, deep down he did but it was the old woman's words that set fourth a change.

Ivar had taken his first steps at thirteen years and three months and since that date almost ten years ago, he kept moving. The title of 'Boneless' had taken on a new meaning. The men spoke in hushed tones at his agility, especially a man of his considerable size and how he moved as though dancing to the deadliest of tunes. His body count could never be found for certain but it had been known that on his first raid at the age of only 15, he stacked them higher than all three brothers and his father combined and he was proud of it. The numbers beyond recall made up for the years of anguish he allowed himself to endure, to prove that he was more than what the gods had given him.

It seemed very evident that they had payment for his will to endure suffering and turn into greatness. When he came across Lofn amidst a field of vibrant yellow and lush green he had been taken aback, though he would never admit to such emotion. It was her eyes, shining like the sun that caught him so off guard that he had forgotten every ounce of awareness training he had ever partook in. She could have been a distraction, she could have been an assassin sent to kill the most violent son of Ragnar Lodbrok but it mattered little. He had recognized the Amber hue identical to those that haunted his thoughts and dreams for most of his life. He had searched each and every gaze he had ever met for years upon years but never quite settling on the right pair. Then, one day all those weeks ago, in that clearing surrounded by a light breeze and plentiful azaleas they gleamed bright and focused with the same attention as his own.

Lofn did not look upon him with fear in her heart. Even after realizing her undressed state, a flicker of defiance burned across the most beautiful face he had ever been witness to. For a moment completely void of an explanation to her existence, he thought her a goddess or a illusion to perfect for reality. Of course, he took the chance to admire every part available to his stare. He followed the long lines of her curved body unlike any in Kaattegat, the women there were lithe, muscular even as a result of their upbringing. There was still tone to her body, but it was soft and pleasant to the eye and stirring to his own body formally never roused by any other. Ivar recalled the feel of it as he carried her back to his stead and laid her sleeping form into his bed and another picture snaked its way into his skull. Her long, dark hair had spread out like a beautiful storm against the pillow and her body seemed natural and at home beneath the warmth of the furs. He couldn't help but think of her falling asleep like this in his bed utterly exhausted after indulging in one another for the entirety of a moon.

Still there had been something more to her sudden arrival, unclothed and unaware of her surroundings, like a bird plucked from obscurity and placed into the cage of a lion. He had a heavy weight fall onto his chest every time entered a room, or even spoke a single word and this was a feeling he was not used to in the slightest. He loved his parents, more so he admired them for varying reasons but this was something stronger, rooted and bound to an entity out of his control but he avoided the fates.

Ivar dodged the seer for weeks until he could so no longer, until his traitorous limbs carried him into the dingy hut one say ago.

 _Ivar peeled back the heavy linen, the only barrier that kept the distorted creature of a man from the unlawful elements. The smell was overbearing, dried herbs and curing meat all hung from the same beam to smoke, he wrinkled his nose already regretting this decision. He did not want to know of his fate, really. Ivar wanted to simply walk up to Lofn and inform her of his will to take her for his own wherever he choice to put down roots or pillage._

 _Without sight the seer could still pick up on it all. His cackled oozed like a bubbling cauldron of tar as he spoke. '"The proud and boneless finally relents."_

 _Ivar snarled silently, killing the mystic in the confines of his troubled mind._

" _I've brought an offering for the Gods, I wish to know if we will be victorious against the Christian scum." Ivar threw down the gold trinkets._

" _I can see through your true intentions young Ivar." The creature held out his crackled hand, the eye at its core misplaced but effective to his magic._

 _Reluctantly, The young warrior complied and licked the salty, putrid flesh._

" _Ask me."_

" _Will we be successful against th-"_

" _You know very well you have the numbers. Do not waste the gods time with such trivial babble."_

 _His stare would have been enough to evoke the highest level of fear in any man but to a blind messenger, it was pointless. Ivar went to speak again only to be interrupted by an unfinished thought._

" _They are indeed the eyes you have been searching for. The young woman had been pulled from another world into our own."_

" _How?"_

" _The gods deemed you worthy of her light."_

 _Ivar's lips pulled themselves into a pleased smile, but the seer continued._

" _Her eyes will see much grief, the weight will be carried on her heart and shoulders alike. She will be yours, for a time."_

 _there was almost a malicious lift in the creatures tone and the genuine smile faltered from the Vikings face._

" _There will be another."_

 _Ivar stood abruptly, the heavy, flaming knot of phantom jealousy wrapped around his heart._

" _There will not be another." He growled._

 _But the old, monstrous man shook his head at the outburst._

" _It is not for you to question the will of the gods. This is your path, young Ivar the Boneless. To gain victory you will have to lose her once."_

Those words had been enough, and Ivar had stormed from the foul hobble into the fading light before his temper flared and the sacred space could be destroyed. His mood had soured beyond the normal grumble of stoic violence, he was fuming until he caught sight of her last evening. He was aware of every helpful task she carried out, whether whelping a new babe or picking fruit and skipping stones with his nephews. She accepted her new roles and thrived in the community already frenzied with adoration for the young woman. The pangs of jealousy hit him once more thinking to every smile bestowed on someone that was not him and the words of Ubbe had sent him over the edge. However, she had met the scenario with a charming grace, putting his older brother in place and calming his rage with a simple look. It was unnerving but it brought fourth no further anger on his part.

That night he had gone to bed with her in his mind and the resolve to deny the word of the gods. He would rather spend eternity burning with Hel than give Lofn up to any other man.

He had woken to a rustle outside his door, her giggle had roused him but by the time he unlatched the heavy oaken barrier, she was gone. In place was a cloth packaged tied together with frayed leather and a dried, yellow flower and inside a necklace. The leather was sturdy and black, the stone the same dark and gleaming colour that reminded him of her hair. She had carved runes of protection, the arrows holding different meanings splayed into a near perfect star, he had never worn anything like it but pulled it over his head without question, before drifting back to sleep.

When he had woke the second time he was reminded of the Seers prophetic words and found himself once more in a foul mood. Ivar took every arrow he could find, a skin of water, one of ale and a large helping of venison and bread before escaping into the woods.

It had not taken very long to find another stag, this one had no sense of direction and if anything, his arrow put the beast out of its misery. The rabbits had been childs-play and he finished stringing them together in the saddle of his warhorse, Gunnar whom was taking water nearby as Ivar set up a target.

He would unleash the fury causing havoc on his body and soul.

Arrow after arrow flew from his bow with brutal force and accuracy into the makeshift target in the glade. Every arrow felt heavier as the weight of his emotions pushed their way out, unleashing into a ferocious roar as his last arrow decimated the target. Bark and dried grass spread out like blood and innards, his forehead and limbs were drenched in sweat and he was close to losing himself in the anger that brought him so much in his life. Why couldn't that same rage resolve itself into keeping her solely for himself? For a while he had been brought back to the young boy, the one with everything to prove but he was pulled away by a voice.

"Ivar?" A soft, ethereal whisper on the wind.

He turned to find her, a basket in her grip and pine needles tangled in her tendrils as if they were meant to be there. Lofn walked forward completely unafraid of his presence even after witnessing his show of deadly skill.

A smile coated her luscious lips when her eyes fell to his splitting of fabric at his neck and chest.

"It suits you."

There was a cavalier flush to her cheek before she boldly reached out to run soft fingers along the ridges, making sure there were no flaws in her work.

For a moment, Ivar couldn't think and the air was filled with her, with Lavender and pine and a sweet scent only distinct to her body. In truth, he did not wish to speak and only wished to convey his thought with action but his words still prevailed.

"Thank you."

Hardly eloquent for a man with such perception but, it elicited another grin he wished to steal away from the rest of the known world.

"I know it isn't much but I wanted to thank you for all your kindness, and for my seat on the shores."

Kindness? Ivar was not certain he had reiterated the characteristic at all in life, but she had needed a place to sit and so it had been only practical for him to fulfil such a simplistic want. Of course, the intention to please her had been there but he did not wish for her to fuss or bring attention to the sweetness his brothers would use as a bludgeon against him for the rest of his days.

"It was nothing." He replied.

He regretted it immediately after watching her sweet and gorgeous face drop and her body was gone from his proximity. His warrior reflexes were quicker than most and his strong arm reached out to keep her there.

Her breath caught in surprise but she did not move away from him, instead her eyes conveyed exactly what he needed them to. They were filled with an abundance of need though probably not equal to what his own transmitted.

He had remembered back, to the old woman's words, the old woman he now wished to shower with riches. If he wanted something, then he needed to make it happen and gods be damned if they would keep it from him.

Lofn was tall but she seemed so much smaller in his arms as he pulled her into him. Her eyes gave silent permission that he wasted no time with, his lips covered hers in a hot, searing kiss. Fire of a different kind spread through his body, warming it with passion and lust instead of acrimony. Her curves fell into his broad torso and his hands took advantage of the new angle, roaming and savouring the contours of her tapered waist and round fullness of her hips and rear. He was becoming ravenous for her and the fervour was being matched as their tongues began to dance, tasting and luxuriating in the taste of one another. She was like honey and mint and complete euphoria. Nothing other than devising strategy and importing death and carnage had felt so right in his being.

He felt himself strain against the hide breeches, aroused and spurred on by her identical match of eagerness. Her silky hands held onto his tunic, they prowled along the lines of every earned muscle and battle born scar. He was ready, moments from tossing her as gently as humanly possible in such a scenario-

"Ehem."

Ivar had wanted to pretend there was nothing there, convince her is was a bird chirping or the autumn wind transitioning to winter. But she pulled away and he felt a craving for bloodshed boil to affront towards whatever force dared make a noise.

Lofn flushed, touching her swollen lips and smirking despite her embarrassment at being caught.

" We came out to catch a stag but seem to have captured something more simulating?"

Bjorn had spoken, his tone reminiscent- no almost identical to the arrogant mirth of their fathers.

Ivar scowled and grumbled with a dangerous discontent but her hand at his chest appeased the animal inside.

"I've already caught a stag." He replied.

"Yes but we will need more than one, Harald and Halfdan would be here any day to discuss our coarse of action."

Ivar remembered the message received by way of raven. He liked the brothers, they enjoyed killing as much, perhaps more than him and their thirst for vengeance and conquest were attributes he admired and respected. They would need the army lead by the kings of in Norway more than any other ally, theirs were strong and unrelenting and they boasted more beserkers than any in all Scandinavia.

Ivar would gladly slay ten stags and several bears to feast with the two and their warriors.

He missed the greetings of his brothers to a still warm, flushed Lofn until he heard a giggle escape her lips and Ubbes smiling eyes on her. Before he could raise his voice in protest, Bjorn spoke once more.

"Refil and Erik have been driving Torvi crazy all day."

"Ah, yes. I promised them I would teach them how to pick stones for caving. I won't delay, I'll let you men get to hunting."

Ivar felt her hand give his a silky squeeze, and her eyes dispatched a content smile before she reluctantly let go and carried on her way.

He could not hear the jeering, nor feel the hard patting of congratulations on his back. He could see only the sway of her hips as she walked from him, he could only hear the light step of foot as she trailed through the wood.


	7. Flat stones and Timber Hulls

A/N: OMG thank you thank you thank you like a million times over everyone for ready my little story. I'm so into it and I wanted to get a little something more out before I write again tomorrow.

Thanks again and ENJOY!

Chapter Six:

Flat Stones and Timber Hulls

Lofn had all but skipped through the wood back into the city. Her fingers ghosting her own lips, reliving the blissful, cloying taste left behind by Ivar's heated mouth. She had kissed boys before but the impact they left on her had no correlation to what she felt now for they, compared to Ivar were mere lambs easily slaughtered by a hungering wolf. He did not wear his lack of years, instead his face appeared much older than almost 23 years. In her time, in her now distant memory of a life once lived, men were still considerable babes at that stage with attitudes to match. Most of the boys she had dated were immature and entitled, believe the world owed them everything and more without having to lift a damned finger. Things were astonishingly different here and you were considered a man after your first kill. Ivar and his kin never wanted or expected any privilege to be handed to them, all things were earned with blood, sweat and extensive amounts of cunning and ferocity.

The object of her affections more deadly and adept as than all the others yet, she did not cower away from his formidable presence and instead welcomed it. Their embrace had been frenzied and thrilling and wholly intoxicating. If it had not been for the badly timed intrusion Lofn would have given into her deepest, darkest desires without giving a second thought. If a simple, rousing kiss had awoken such a state of frenzy and hunger, there would be no shortage of fire should they continue to explore.

"Lofn!" She looked up, her complexion still glowing shades of rose and coral to see the smiling, exhausted face of Torvi. Refil already surpassed his mother in height and stood tall and noble beside her. The brunette smiled warmly, a flush now covered the pre teens face but a flash of blonde and brown garb flew past her sight. Little lanky arms hugged around the back of her thighs and a mop of almost white curls rested at her lower abdomen with a force that almost knocked her back.

She dropped her basket from impact of the affectionate grip and replied with a light ruffle of his little mane. He let go and jumped into her arms without warning, but Lofn had come to predict little Eriks greetings, her arms had gotten used to the sudden, added weight of the forty pound boy.

"Have you been giving your mother trouble?" She questioned with feigned severity and knitted brows.

"Of course he has, hes a damned Lodbrok."

Torvi gave a tired laugh, making her way towards her new and now beloved friend. She had been shocked, like they all had been when a frantic Ivar came barrelling through town carrying the brunette. He demanded her aid, deeming no other worthy enough to help and so, to honour the love her husband shared with his brother, she complied without further questions. Torvi had never seen the look of concern in the storming gaze of her brother-in-laws eyes, but it had been present that day along with something more. She had watched his silent musings of infatuation turn into unfiltered yearning and adoration. The white haired blonde knew first hand, that even the mightiest most ferocious men, would kneel before their strong women. Lofn had also confided in her, entrusting her secrets of the heart that Torvi would protect better than any vault and she was aware of her ardour and silent worship of respect and revere for Ivar.

She had almost been too fatigued to notice the suspect glow about her friend, whom always had a gentle, saucy charm about her. She was a lovely, hardworking thing but there was something extra today.

"What happened." Her question, not presented as such caught the younger woman off guard but, her elated grin only spread wider.

"I went to my Amma's, picked some lavender. Ate some stew and began my journey back. So now I'm here." Lofn balanced Erik on her right hip, the curve acting as a seat for the giggling, starry eyed boy.

"Lofie," He buzzed with the sweetest nickname. "Did you bring us any treats?" His tone became as serious as it could for a boy his age, his life solely revolved around sweets and play and he held her cheeks steady to drive home his query.

She laughed out at his question, more so the manner that he presented it and replied. "There may be a whole apple and walnut pie in my basket, Runa sent it for dinner tonight." His eyes lit up momentarily but a frown returned upon the realization that he would have to wait until he finished his dinner to eat the treat. "But, I did manage to sneak some honeyed dates and walnuts to take with us." The little gleam had returned.

"No, no. There is something different about you." There was almost a knowing look to Torvi's tired expression and she suddenly pulled some energy from the sky.

"Boys, go and get your things." She ordered and her children obeyed without question. She was a stern mother, but she held more love in one fingernail for her boys than Lofn's mother carried in her whole body but she did not wish to dwell on such things. The blonde woman waiting until her boys had gone to fetch their skins and satchels before eagerly grabbing her friends arm and pulling her closer to speak in hushed tones. The city was still lousing with gossip, after all.

" What has changed. Is it Ivar?"

Lofn's face gave it away before her mouth could confirm it.

"He kissed me, Torvi."

" Oh thank Frigg!" She blurted out louder than she had hoped, but the two women began to giggle like two young girls to garner looks from passers by.

The boys returned to the road with cloaks and all ready to set off with Lofn. The trio made their way down to the shores, the tide was out and the best rocks could be found under this circumstance. Lofn held onto Erik to keep him steady and Refil followed closely behind.

" Mind your step boys, the rocks can be slippery." She warned sweetly.

Lofn was skilled in sorting through the stones and pebbles with merely her eyes, but part of the fun was rooting through the slimy debris to find the perfect ones. Often, a rock would be peeled back to find slivers of fish or frantic hermit crabs skidding along. In one such case, Erik moved a rock out of the way to find a whisp of a fish, silver and blue and struggling to move in the shallow hole of water.

"Look Lofie!" He squealed with delight. " Can I take him home?" She walked over, the poor little creature would suffocate shortly, but there was little she could do, but in came Refil with a clever plan.

" This could work, wouldn't it?" He had found an empty wine carafe on the bare shore and quickly filled it with water.

" Yes, Refil. Quick thinking." She praised him with a smile and the older boy blushed. He knelt down and allowed the gentle pull of the vessel to suck the fish inside. Another squawk of joy pierced the air. The tide was beginning to creep up on them with the slow decent of the sun into moonlight. Refil pushed the cork back in and set the newly homed fish into the sand, he stayed on shore and listened to her speaking.

" Now, the key to the perfect stone is flatness and weight. You don't want to wear a heavy stone, you'd want it to feel as light or as close to a feather as possible."

"Why?" His little voice peaked up. Erik shoved the hair from his bright, blue eyes. He was always so serious when asking a question. He would be a good leader one say based off that alone, he could never take anything quite at face value. His older brother was far more reserved, reminding her of Ivar sans the forcible presence, at least for now of course.

They picked stones for the rest of the afternoon, until the torches were lit and the moon bid welcome to the eve.

"Father!" Refil exclaimed. Lofn and Erik looked up and the little one was thrilled of course, but he was having all too much fun peeling away rocks and combing the shores whilst getting his hands dirty.

"Come on, sweet little Erik. Your mother will have my head if I send you home with the entire sea in your pockets." He frown and turned to his father.

" Father can I play with Lofie longer?"

Bjorn was conflicted of course, he thought the longer his boys spent in nature, the better but if they arrived late for dinner he would not hear the end for well into the night.

"No, Erik. We have to wash up for dinner, you can sit beside Lofie if she'll have you."

There was a genuine smirk on his lips, his sons were both enamoured with the former stranger and he could hardly blame them. This was the young woman that made Ivar show great interest for the first time that he could even recall. She was a rarity indeed, one they could all appreciate.

She knelt down, not caring of the muck and sea slime in the slightest to pinch his little cheeks and ruffled his hair, declaring that it would be her pleasure to sit beside him.

She thanked Refil for all his help and the boy smiled like a lovesick fool, Bjorn slapped his back and guided his boys back to clean before an evening meal.

Lofn couldn't help but smile after them, They were such amiable lads with honour and integrity even at their ages. Children from her former life were all bratty and filled with sugar, bouncing off walls and dodging punishment. Still, the pangs of her womb could be felt every-time she saw them. She would have been too young to have such thoughts from the future she came, but in this time, she should have at least birthed one by now. Gods, she was an old maid here. She laughed to herself, collecting the basket and her cloak to warm her chilled limbs but it was damp, having taken a tumble from her shoulders into the water, but it would be no use to her now. Lofn turned to face the sea, the moonlight cast a beautiful, silver shadow across the almost black water and she sighed contented in her day. A warm sheath covered her shoulders and caught her off guard.

"I can't let you freeze,what kind of prince would I be."

That familiar sound in her ear, the deep, rich and smooth tone of his voice caused goose flesh in spite of the new warmth.

"Hello, Ivar." She sank into his body that coiled around her smaller, solid frame. More heat found her ear as he planted soft, lingering kissed along the lobe and down her jaw.

A heavy horn sounded in the air, its deep exuberant blow carried across the dark, stilled water. Sienna sails with runes askew cut through the newly christened night sky and a small fleet of ships sailed into the harbour. The great, timber hulls cutting through the water like a sword to flesh.

"Who is that?"

He could feel the sudden tenseness in her body and dropped the urge to roll around in the cold, damp shore to calm her mind.

" They are no threat to us. Some old friends, that is all."

But the sinking feeling in her stomach did not lessen as the ships closed in on the docks.

She felt an unnatural pull, a tug at her centre and unlike the one she felt in the presence of Ivar, it did not sit well.


	8. Ink

Chapter Six:

Ink

Vikings were exhausting, extraordinarily so no matter their age. They could party on well into the night which left the almost twenty three year old woman feeling like an old woman in spirit. An entire swarm of new ones from further up in Norway had come to roost for several weeks. Ivar had informed her plainly but the very sight of them left an unsettled knot in the pits of her stomach, and given the circumstances leading up to her current state, she was a young woman filled with bravery. However, these men were towering and broad and tattooed from neck to forehead and most likely down to their toes. They were almost the complete prototype of what people from her time had imagined Vikings to be, men that made blood run cold with a paralysing fear that seeped into your bones.

She had heard Refil mention at dinner at dinner he heard they were cannibals, feasting on the flesh of their enemies and using the bones to make ink for the tattoos all over their face and bodies. The silly rumour had earned him a heavy smack to the back of his head and it had served its purpose to scare his little brother. If she was being honest with herself, the urban legend left her cold to the touch but she had to put away those feelings to tend to a petrified Erik that sat with his little head hidden in her shoulder. She had scolded his older brother too, and her disappointment seemed to resonate more than the palm to his head. He apologized profusely and ever the reserved soul he was continued to show remorse in the form of sweets for his little brother and an offering of a small bouquet of wildflowers for Lofn. He had scurried to his home to steal them from the front archway and with their parents occupied in other earthly delights, she showed them how to braid the stems into a crown.

Although Refil was enamoured by her, he had slunk away to sit with some boys his own age.

Wee Erik was still shaken but she attempted to distract him from his own troubling thoughts by putting his tiny hands to work. Hands that would grow sooner than later and into deadly weapons, she noted and the thought sobered her for a moment but her ever lively demeanour would not be quelled.

Lofn resolved to set his heart right, he could not go to bed with a form full of fear. She had to think about his well being, especially when it took her own awareness away from the feeling of being watched from all sides. She knew Ivar's eyes had hardly left her for hours now but there was another force upon her. Another pair of eyes that were dark, hazardous and full of a deep intensity that caused her head to buzz and stomach to sink.

"Will you wear it?" Erik spoke with a tremble.

Lofn put on a show of exuberant glee when he held up the colourful, lopsided floral crown and placed it on her head. His cherub like cheeks turned scarlet but a smile tugged at his lips for the first time since his older brothers cruel little joke and the pair was unaware of the now many sets of eyes on them. She would count that as a small victory for now but the next part would be risky. Not only for the sake of Erik's dread, but for the swirl of feeling clouding most of the thoughts that made her a functioning human. Lofn took a deep breath, aware enough to keep a comforting, assuring smile on her face and straightened the miniature version of his fathers bear skin shawl.

She leaned down and whispered. " Now, Erik. You and I are going to say hello to the King and his brother." a look of utter horror flashed over his petite and handsome features. "But Lofie, what if they eat me." She had to refrain from laughter then, his serious tone always caused her heart to flutter in the pure innocence of it all. How children processed information and relayed their feelings was a wonderment because to Erik, this was the biggest conundrum he had ever faced.

" We are just going to introduce ourselves," she paused. " Plus, I promise that I won't ever let anyone eat you."

"You promise?" He questioned, a little pinky reaching out.

Lofn's smile widened, a little custom from her time that she had taught him to seal the plans she always made to play and explore. She tangled her smallest finger with his own. "Promise. Now come." Her hand seamlessly transitioned to holding his for extra encouragement as they walked over to the table housing royalty from the two regions.

Of course, she was slightly annoyed that Ivar had made the leap to introduce her to the new party but the men had jumped into barrels of ale and mountains of food almost immediately.

Ivar eyed her, anticipating her move towards him but she stopped at the foot of the table trying to coax his young nephew from behind her skirts. The sight of her, so gentle and nurturing towards the boy brought on feelings and hopeful projections of her mothering and rearing his children someday soon. When the inhabitants of the table fell silent, he gauged the reactions of all the men. Most stared with mouths agape at the beautiful, dark haired woman with a new accessory that only made her appear more like the goddess her namesake suggested. Most men would feel contented with the appreciative stares of others and the warmth brought on by several horns of ale had mellowed him slightly. It was until he caught a glimpse of Halfdan whom had his predatory sights set upon her. His lean form was relaxed in his chair but those dark eyes were glazed over with the same gleam he had before drawing blood. Halfdan looked at her as though she already belonged to him and that cancelled out any amiable feeling that danced in Ivar's psyche.

"Sorry to disturb your merriment."

As if she did not already own the attention of the board, her pleasant smile made sure of it.

"Harald, Halfdan, this is Lofn Ulfrdotter!" an incredibly drunken Ubbe stood on a wobbly foundation, his horn spilling onto the heavy floor.

Ivar would have to make a note to use his older brother as fodder come the great battle for drawing more attention to his woman. The entire table stood with a show of respect and the ground almost shook from the force.

Harald came forward first. The shorter but no less imposing brother flashed Lofn a charming smile, he was the more elegantly spoken of the two and like Ivar he could most likely talk an entire army into killing themselves.

"Pleasure, Lofn. We should declare war on the Lodbroks, keeping such a beauty to themselves over here and hiding you away in the corner."

She blushed and gave him a demure smirk, but overall Ivar was not threatened by his natural affability.

"A name not to be forgotten. "

Ivar set his furious gaze between the next exchange, his body cried out to cut the hand from Halfdan's body as he reached out and brought it to his lips. Such a dealing was reserved for pledging allegiance to Jarls and Kings but his boldness had blazed a torch of the inner workings of his mind that had already been made up. The tattooed man was placing his claim down for all to see and Lofn was painfully oblivious to the silent challenge. Ivar almost bit his own tongue off and his hand instinctively reached down for the sword at his side, the heavy palm of Hvitserk stopped his brother from making an irrational mistake that could cost them a revengeful victory.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, and I am sure that I'll have the honour of getting to know you all better but I have some business here."

Ivar could spot the amusement bordering on awe in the brothers eyes. He knew undoubtedly that they were not used to such women as she in fact, they usually coveted docile creatures happy to remain chained to hearth and home. Her straightforward, still very soft spoken display of intent had piqued their intrigue but Ivar wasn't sure that relaxed him at all, the fact that the younger of the two warriors released her grip took some weight off.

"Please, sweet wolf, tell us."

Ivar growled under his breath, Halfdan had already made the leap to gracing her with a nickname and her candid, flattered reaction had threatened to turn the gnarl into something more menacing. He wanted to end this now. He wanted to stand up and storm across the table, throw her over his shoulder and steal her away and then only allowing her to leave when his seed had stuck inside her. This was all so new to him, this possessive feeling gnawing away at his resolution.

"My little friend here heard that you and your army of warriors, like to." She paused, trying to feign a toughness in spite of the laughter bubbling in her core. " Consume your slain enemies and use their ashes as ink for your tattoos."

There was a great roar of laughter at the table, but to the small boy it was more alarming that jovial in spirit for his fears had yet to be quieted. Her eyes pleaded with the leaders to convey her current plight as it was well into the night and past his bedtime.

" No, little one. That is just a crazy story older brothers tell little brothers to scare them. I used to tell Halfdan the same thing about the Swedes." Harald declared leaning in slightly.

"It is true," the younger brother began and he crouched down to Erik's height. "I only stopped believing him last year." his out of character show of gentleness shocked Ivar but made good its intention to make both the young Dane and his caretaker smile brightly.

"Thank you." she knelt down scooped the boy up gently. " I think it will make bedtime much easier now."

"I'm jealous of his company."

Ivar seethed at the comment and the dark eyes that undressed her where she stood regardless of that fact that he had done the same.

"I'll escort you."

Ivar could see the relief wash over her tired yet, no less lovely features and he walked over. He could feel the fiery daggers being thrown at his back as he guided her to the room she slept in.

Erik was fading away in her arms having finally been relieved of the anxiety, by the time they entered her chambers he had closed his eyes and fallen into deep sleep.

The scent of lavender and sweetness filled his nostrils as he walked in and helped pull down the covers of wool and fur to accommodate the sleeping child. Once her hands were full he wasted no time in reminding her of their meeting earlier with a heavy, heated kiss. She moaned into him, her body sinking into his and he pushed her backwards until her back connected with the wall. Ivar broke from her lips only to let loose a flurry of kisses and gentle biting down her neck. He was fuelled by his selfish need for her and desire to mark her for the world to see.

"Ivar." She whispered, but he continued his assault on every inch of skin he could find. He unclasped the shawl over her shoulders, exposing more soft flesh to his greedy mouth. "Ivar, please." Her breath was ragged and pleading, his arousal was straining his breeches and he could feel her coming apart in his arms with every kiss and nip he landed to her tempting, silky skin. Her shaky hands moved from their solid grip of his back to hold his head to her. "Erik sleeps, we cannot wake him." she reasoned but he replied with a ravenous growl and pulled her quickly and quietly from the room and guided her into a darkened alcove housing brooms and buckets. He attacked her lips once more, allowing no room for further protest but she cried out into his mouth and he pulled back to scan her eyes. Even in the darkness, he could appreciate everything about her, and in this flustered wanton state. Her full lips were even more swollen and the marks on her skin were already showing.

"Ivar, I won't be able to hold you off for much longer," There was no protest in her voice, quite the opposite, " I want this but."

"I know." He found some composure again, he had realized that no matter how terribly he wished to pull up her skirt and thrust into her with abandon, he did not wish for their first coupling to be born of a an ugly jealousy in a broom closet.

He lowered her to the ground and leaned down match his forehead with her own.

"Tomorrow." She whispered.

She parted from him with a honeyed kiss into her room before he could change his mind. A wicked, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, no god or man would keep him from making that date.


	9. AUTHORS NOTE

A/N:

Hello friends,

I'm in the midst of getting another chapter up, I'm also working on two different stories and have yet to decide which ones will go up. I'm also a stay at home mom that runs two businesses out of home so my time is pretty stretched with hubby back to work after the holidays. This week I had rallies and today was a march in solidarity to the American Womens march so I've been swamped lol.

Thanks again for reading, the next chapter will hopefully be up soon. I have other stories plotted out, I just need to narrow down the fandom. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated! Feel free to PM me with them. So far, Tolkien, Game of Thrones, Star Wars, Greek Mythology, King Arthur are in the running..But I am also open to any suggestions as well.

Thank you!

-Lofndotter


	10. Cinnamon

Thank you everyone for your patience, heres the next chapter! Next one up by next week, I'm taking a bit of time out each day to spend on this and another story so stay tuned!

Thanks again!

Chapter Seven:

Cinnamon

She was still grinning wide when she woke, but had distracted herself immediately. This had been an odd day off for her, one she could certainly not waste. When she emerged from beneath the heavy furs, she did her very best not to wake the sleeping, curly headed little viking at her side. She placed the warmth back over the sleeping boy, and readied herself behind a wooden screen. A simple, deep blue swollen dress would be fitting for her venture to the markets, and she pulled the grey cloak over her shoulders for extra protection in the early morning dew.

Lofn beamed when she looked at Erik, so peaceful in his slumber. He looked like a doll almost, the porcelain perfection of his features were almost unreal, he would break many hearts and that was a certainty. He would also slay many enemies, but once more this was a matter the brunette had chosen to ignore for the time being. She left the child in peace and sneaked away quietly, assured he would most likely sleep longer than usual given his late departure to dreamland the evening prior.

Her senses were assaulted with the stench of ash and stale liquor and man, a pile of vikings in drink induced slumbers on every surface. There was no need for Lofn to tip toe but she did nonetheless, like a doe in a grizzly hibernation cave wishing to avoid becoming a meal. She caught sight of Ivar, his long limbs splayed out regally in a large chair. He looked as peaceful as Erik in that moment, guiltless and free of acrimony. His handsome face was bathed in serenity, the weight of his responsibility nowhere to be found. It that moment he was not the man of lore and legend, the rampaging ruler and son of Ragnar known for his brutality. He was not a man with a body count beyond rational thought, he was simply Ivar, and in her heart she knew that he had been there her entire life. He had brought comfort and confusion in visions and the same in person but with the added heat of an undeniable fervour.

A hot shiver slithered down her spine, as her mind went back to the night before and her reluctance to pull her own body from his. How natural it was, and the wordless compliance of her own body and heart with his touch, she had never felt such a fire in her bones. Had it not been for the less than desirable atmosphere, Lofn would have certainly hiked up her skirts and pulled him inside but it did not feel right to do so in a gloomy corridor, in the company of a broomstick. Such fleeting moments were meant for the many times after the first, as a quick release of passion with the added frenzied feeling of being caught.

Lofn wanted to go to him then, to wake him and steal him away to his room and not leave for weeks but there was much to do to prepare. She had made a promise to her grandmother to stock up on cinnamon and ginger before the merchants left to restock their supplies. So with final glance, she crept from the longhouse and began her journey to the market completely unaware of the dark glance upon her.

The smell of spices made a smile spread across her face. Lofn was so grateful that a trade route had been established before she had entered this life. Life would be possible without lemons, ginger and cinnamon but it would not be pleasant for her palette. The future she had been pulled from brought many comforts she was forgetting more each day, but the simplicity of citrus and spice was something she could not forget. She mulled over each barrel of goods, examining the "Exotic" products and picked out a large root of ginger, the smell was strong and spicy and more potent than what she was used to. The young woman inhaled too deeply and found herself coughing from the sensory overload, the merchant chuckled softly, his brown skin was a welcome contrast to so much white and grey around her. There was a cheeky glimmer in his chocolate eyes, and Lofn grinned back.

"It is strong, no?" He spoke the Norse language with a melodic tempering. She imagined how beautiful Arabic sounded with his tone, a language she had always dreamt of learning but never had the time.

"Yes, I'm not used to such exceptional quality, where I am from ginger is over farmed, you need so much to even have a hint of it." She was careful to speak slowly as it was clear his grasp on the language was new.

" Oh, you'll only need a sliver of this."

Just at that moment a woman appeared behind him, her green eyes were striking against her beautiful dark skin, but she had a great kindness within.

She spoke a song of Arabic to her husband, whom gazed at her as if she were made of gold and starlight and she felt truly honoured to be in the presence of their love.

"She thinks you will suit this." The moved to the side and let his wife come forward.

The bundle of a pretty, pale blue shiny fabric. Slowly she unravelled it to reveal a gown, embroidered with golden thread stitched alone the collar.

"May I?" She asked softly, astounded by the authentic beauty of the garment.

"Yes. Please" The merchants lovely wife replied.

Up close she could see the intricate work, so delicate and beautiful that it almost took her breath away. The design was Azaleas, golden and glorious.

"She loves Azaleas." The doting husband commented, his eyes never leaving the magnificence of his mate.

"They are my favourite too." Lofn smiled and made a gesture to her woven basket already containing three bushels of the flower. The foreign woman's eyes lit up brightly and she turned to her husband with a joyful lift to her voice. She was almost too over zealous and he had to calm her sudden surge of excitement. He turned back to Lofn whom was eagerly awaiting the translation and smiled brightly.

" My wife would like you to have it."

"Yes, of course, how much?"

Lofn began opening her pouch of well earned coin. She would be willing to give the entirely of her purse for something so stunning and unique.

" No no, she wants you to have it. No charge."

Lofn was taken aback by the lavish offering from a complete stranger, something so pure would have never happened in the time she was from. The young woman came from a society seeped in selfish desire and narcissistic tenancies, so it was quite difficult to suppress her shock. She was speechless momentarily, but still offered payment.

"Please, I must be able to give you something for payment." She offered, and paused. Lofn had the perfect gift to bestow, a new piece of jewelry she had made just last week and was wearing for the first time this morning. She rolled up her sleeve and unclasp the beaded bracelet.

"Take this."

She handed the other young woman the trinket. "There is an Azalea petal in every bead."

The man turned to his bride to relay the message and watched a larger smile form on her lips, she was so grateful and enamoured by the handmade adornment that she held to her chest.

" Thank. You." She spoke slowly and earnestly, the two words had never been so honest. That is until Lofn herself replied the very same words back.

" My name is Lofn."

She put fourth a hand, extending her utter thanks and offer of friendship. This time though, she wasn't met with confusion and instead the hand of the man and counter bid of their names.

" I am Abbas, and this beautiful woman is my wife, Lina."

Lina then embraced Lofn with a kiss to each cheek, thanking her again.

Lofn spent another few minutes learning more about the merchant couple. Soon she had learned that the two had grown up together, only blocks separating them but they had been very much in love for their entire life. Abbas had started his trading business from a small batch of ginger and grown it into something much more at just sixteen years. They were impressive people and Lofn promised all of her business to them. Piling the lovely garment, ginger and cinnamon in her basket of course not before parting with two bundles of sun yellow flowers to Lina.

The fates had informed him of victory before sailing to Kaategaat with his brother, but they had also foretold the presence of beauty amidst the chaos of war. The soot mouthed seer had spoken details that he had scoffed at, his blackened heart beat to kill and conquer and women were but mere vessels for pleasure. But he had seen her from miles out even before docking, 'deep brown waves amidst a sea of gold and white-blonde tresses' the crackled voice of the seer began to replay in his mind. It was an unknown force that snapped his head in her direction and his eyes had not left her since. 'The name and beauty of a goddess,' that was plain for every pair of eyes that sought a gaze upon her. But to Halfdan, a man that knew how to kill a man fifty different ways the thought of claiming a woman's heart was baffling. It would be a daunting task but worth the pot of nectar in the end.

He knew strategy and it would be a skill he would readily employ, mainly so because another had already claimed the dark haired siren. The former crippled boy of Ragnar Lodbrok had made his intentions obvious to anyone with eyes of there own and without the uttering of one word. 'Patience will be rewarded.' He wanted to garrote that damned messenger of the gods. Patience was not something he was accustomed to, when he wanted a new weapon, he built it and when he wanted gold or pleasure, he took it without waiting.

Women are fickle though, elaborate and confusing but within minutes of speaking to the young Lofn, he could tell a difference from the women he was acquainted with. His mother had been a subservient wife to his father and their sisters the same, married off at young ages to breed heirs for other Jarls. Most other women complied with a demand for their body, fear always outweighed reason. He would sleep with a woman a few times only to grow bored with her lack of any substance, but this one was different. There was a fire in her eyes, a defiant nature and resilience that intrigued him. Ultimately, he wanted her body and womb to breed strong sons and brazen daughters but this had been the first time in his thirty one years that a thought beyond quick release had entered his mind.

He almost didn't hear her enter the great hall, but he felt a great shift of energy and woke from a mead driven sleep to find her floating towards the door. Lofn was dressed so modestly for a woman of high regard and when he finally had her, all would know it. She would be covered in gold, silks, jewels and furs fit for a queen but marking her as his own and wearing the spoils of his conquest on her very sleeve.

Halfdan stalked his intended silently through the early morning bustle of the crowd. Jealous of every passerby that gawked after her, envious of every merchant receiving her kind smile. Lofn had lingered at one stand, and he simply watched the exchange of goods and friendly gesture. From his view point she had been gifted a garment worthy of her beauty and had been beyond pleased. He would make note to make the acquaintance of those foreign merchants, perhaps commission gowns, each more extravagant than the last.

The Tattooed warrior began his march forward, to narrow in on his eventual spoil. She wasn't paying attention to her path and mindlessly marvelled over the pale blue dress in her woven carrier. He was several feet from her when it seemed the gods favoured him enough to cast a large stone beneath her feet. Her foot caught and her body fell forward, but his reflexes were so imprinted on every muscle that he caught her form and the basket of goods before every bit fell to the dirt.

"I'm so sorry." she breathed. It was clear she had been caught off guard by the fall, but even more so by her Savior. There was a great bewilderment to her expression. Her cheeks flushed but she made no move to leave his grip.

"Lucky you, I was passing through." He could have sworn he saw a fleeting look of suspicion in her eyes but it was soon replaced with a cloying smile.

"Thank you. Halfdan you have saved me from making a complete fool of myself."

She straightened herself up and politely pushed herself back up, he did not fight her on it as frightening her completely would ruin his chances. Then again, he could just claim her the old way by challenging the younger man and stealing her away. The thought had passed through his head more than ten times in the past twelve hours.

"At your service, Little Wolf." flattery would be implored now, his brother advised it above all else.

She blushed a deep crimson at the nickname but a twinge of playful challenge dashed across her lovely features.

"You assume I am deserving of such a name."

He snickered. " It is part of your name, is it not?"

"Yes, my fathers." She paused " I'm not so much shorter than you."

Halfdan mad his presence more physical, the gap between them was not modest but she had almost frozen in place.

" Yes, but you are still much smaller." he whispered the words, his formidable physique made most cower from the mere presence. " you're the perfect size, little wolf." the last of his words tapered off into almost nothing, audible only to her ears. And her blazing, amber eyes held his for a good moment until a small voice pulled her back to earth.

Lofn regained her composure as Bjorns youngest raced to her and grabbed on tightly as if seeing her for the first time in years.

"Lofie, Lofie!"

A grey haired, ageing woman with fierce eyes of the same hue followed.

" Erik, Amma good morning." Lofn greeted the two.

Halfdan ignored the lingering, weary gaze of the old healer and kept it fixed on the dark haired Dane.

" Amma, this is Halfdan, he saved my pride and new gown from eating the earth just now."

"hmmm." The old woman was dismissive . " That's all well, thank you. Come now, I need help, young Inna has gone into labour."

Lofn was hardly able to spit out a goodbye before her grandmother sped her far from his company. Halfdan laughed to himself, she'll tell the young woman to stay distant from him for sure but he would eventually figure out the concept of patience.


	11. Burden of Fate

Thanks Everyone! Your reviews help me keep going, and I was so inspired that I managed to get another chapter out today! I hope you enjoy it all. To answer a few questions and comments and requests; Ivar does walk in this story, historically there are many versions of him and I went with my favorite, which is that he was called boneless for the way he fought in battle. It was said he was the tallest, most intelligent and handsome of all Ragnars sons..I mean Ubbe is a close second of course, lol. Next, I am working on a Tolkien Fic! And Alicia Vikander is gorgeous but Lofn is a little thicker, taller and her eyes are a lighter brown but this is up for interpretation of course. Feel free to insert anyone in there, even yourself, haha (we've all done it at least once) Okay, I'll get to the goods now. Again, I'm so overwhelmed and so appreciative of all the love and support. You guys are the best!

Skol 3

Chapter Ten:

The Burden of Fate

Lofn had picked up on her grandmothers frantic aura from the very moment she pulled her away from Halfdan like a child playing with a naughty friend. She couldn't say she was not entirely grateful for the interruption.

She had wanted to be unsure of his intentions, but what was the animus of most men? She had to come to know the considerable distinction between cultures separated by centuries and technology. These men were as close to the prototype of virility than any other and in recent exposure had concluded that they practised little restraint in life as they did in battle. Halfdan's intentions were that of most Norsemen, to conquer and breed a woman they deem worthy of bearing their stock. Lofn was still debating her opinion of this peculiar, imposing specimen. When he had caught her, there was a flutter in her stomach, but this one came with a looming, heavy feeling in her heart. A weighty contrition wrapped tightly in obligation and duty. A quaver had slithered down her spine, like the first bead of sweat on a summers day and she felt compelled to look into his eyes. His dark eyes were pressing, and left feeling as though intertwined with his gaze, his imposing form brought a flush to her cheek and that had been the moment she had been gladdened by Erik's embrace.

She could feel his heavy, deep auburn gaze on her until out of sight.

" Inna is ready so soon?"

Lofn kept pace with her suddenly speedy Amma and had opted for slinging Erik on her hip to save his legs from tiring.

" No." She grumbled.

Lofn stopped suddenly, her brow arched at the silly fib the elder had told.

" Then what is the rush? Is Torvi baking again? Do we need to stand by with the buckets of water?"

The woman in questions youngest child threw his head back with a hearty giggle. The blood woman excelled at a great deal of things; Archery, tanning hides and sewing leather and furs, her venison was the greatest this side of all Scandinavia but to bake a loaf of bread or a lemon cake spelled out disaster for the hearth and home.

Runa's face had not changed in severity, it only grew more urgent in it's silent plea.

" The Seer calls on you, Lofn."

It hit her with a solid thump, her heart sank into her feet making them heavy enough to weight her to the ground.

"You said that I would know."

" I lied, Lofn. He had sought you out the moment you arrived, but I had put him off your trail for weeks now."

There was an epidemic threatening her relationship with the older woman, dishonesty and it was taking a toll on the obligated trust associated with unconditional love. She wanted to scream, but thought it best to take a deep breath and remain placid to avoid stressing the boy at her hip.

" Erik, you'll have to go with Runa." She ordered in the most endearing tone.

" Okay Lofie, hurry back."

The young woman put the child down and exchanged no words with the woman she was beginning to wonder if she even knew at all. A wave of anxiety shook her nerves, a sense of dread gnawed mercilessly at her core yet, her legs urged onwards. Lofn had no instruction, no map to guide her but it was the same unnamed might acted as Shepard to her current plight, the path became clearer with each step. Sweat beaded at the nape of her neck, her hands tittered and shook with panic as she neared the hut of the seer. It reminded her much of her grandmothers home with the endless amount of trinkets and protection runes scattered about. A stew of belief and superstition on display to warn and remind passersby, but there were none about. The dirt paths were barren, no fair heads bustling about. She was alone with the wind and the whistling swirl of dust and bright, golden leaves dancing along. Lofn was at a loss for this custom. Then again, most modern aged fortune tellers were exaggerated versions of offensive stereotypes cultivated carefully to extract your money. She had read enough to know the bare minimum of this spiritual practice but she took a deep breath and prepared for the worst of it. Many years ago, she had read about the Seers and the reverence attached to their livelihood for they were vessels and messenger to the gods. Often grotesque in appearance, mutilated and blinded so as to serve their masters better. She stood frozen at the wool sheath acting as a feeble door to the hut clutching her basket until her knuckles lost their colour.

"Come child," The voice crackled like the embers of a decaying fire " I can feel your uncertainty from here."

Forward she strode, turning back was no longer an option and with straightened shoulders she stood in front of the black shrouded silhouette. The mans back had been turned to her.

"I can feel your thoughts, child."

When the cloaked being turned to face her, she refrained from gasping out of shock but a relief. A creature stood, though not as monstrous as she had imagined as a child. His skin was so pale that the hue had taken on a shade of sickly blue, lips were curls in and coated in a sooty substance almost reaching the nose. His eyes were absent entirely and instead remained the two scarred craters void of any indication of humanity. She toiled with her anxiety still, but it subsided slightly with the reveal of one less unknown.

"I'd believe anything at this point." She smiled.

He cackled softly " Levity is indeed a rarity in my presence." Long, gangly fingers pointed to a cushion facing the creature. " Come and sit, child. Your grandmother has made this meeting quite improbable since your arrival."

Lofn was shocked at the casual tone but it brought the disquiet in her chest down more. She obeyed and knelt down on the worn, straw pillow. It was not comfortable, but there was no need to show disrespect for such a trivial reason.

"I'm sure she had her reasons." Indifference carried her voice, causing a tilted grimace to the face of the messenger.

"She loves you dearly, child. Merely protecting you, I'm sure." He spoke like a wise old crone, relaying overplayed cliches.

"May I ask why I am here?"

" You may, yes. But first let me see you. So far I can see only a wave of defensive unease."

'but you have no eyes' Lofn immediately scolded herself. The blind were able to see by touch, by sound and sensation. She could comply with the simple request of a sightless being.

The blue fingers reached out and she leaned forward to aid the connection. His skeletal claws were colder than death but posed to threat as they gently combed over her features to memorize the structure of her face. He pulled back with a smile, revealing teeth so blackened by decay that she thought they may fall out if he breathed to hard.

" The All Mother undersold your grace, child."

This child business was irritating but she assumed he did not know her name. Wait. All mother?

"Frigga?" She gasped in surprise and delight.

Another cackle.

"Whom else, child. The mother of all fate has crafted your destiny and placed it in the care of others to help see it through."

What would the wife of Odin want with her? This must be a metaphor, a confirmation similar to what a catholic priest would say to a devout fool to keep them so.

"Like you?" She entertained the idea but the scepticism was clear in her voice.

"No child, I am but a servant." there was a brief pause in his speech. " Go on then, ask. I have been waiting many years to serve your enquiries."

She wanted to have an open mind and after everything, but the anxiety was subsiding rapidly and if he said child one more time, she would certainly scream. She expected to but this vibe was too crystal ball in a dimly lit room covered in tye dye above a noodle house to her. Only in this case, she couldn't eat her entire bodies weight in ramen after being dissapointed by a Caucasian girl posing as a roma fortune teller. She could entertain the idea, for now.

" What if I don't like my answer." she replied with a feigned tone of intrigue.

" You won't like most of what I have to say. Yes, you will curse me. Stubborn as you are, _Child."_

Her eyes snapped to focus on the hooded creature. The last word was so deliberate, as if he had heard the context of her mind. The pace of her heart quickened and to quell the panic rising once more, her body moved to the defensive, matched in the sharpness of her tone.

"You don't know me." She snapped.

There was a growl to her voice that made the seer think of Ivar and mirrored the poisonous tone he had taken the day before. The crone held no resentment, it was a grave undertaking to become aware of a fate that would weigh down heavily on their young souls and set a coarse for the rest of their lives. However hostile the recipient mattered little, greatness had been reserved for few and the burden of such fates had been selected for only the strongest of the gods children. Ivar was merely a sword and Lofn, the whet stone and flux that kept it sturdy and useful.

"Oh, but I do, Lofn Ulfrdotter. I know your life desires, I know your fear of loss and love for the youngest son of Ragnar. I know of the scar you cover with, the one that runs from ear to shoulder and I can recall the purposeful slip of your mothers hand."

It was a desperate shot, one that would garner her ear for certain.

"Enough!"

The young woman stood abruptly, tears had gathered in the corners of her glossy eyes. She did not wish to remember that fateful day, when her mother had been driven mad with jealousy of her youth that she burned her own child's flesh with a hot curling iron. She had done well to forget that woman and the mental and once physical cruelty she endured at her hands. Lofn choked on a ugly sob, but forced that weakness down. How dare this creature use his obvious spiritual boon to slice open old wounds and pour ounce after ounce of salt inside.

She turned away, prepared to grab her woven basket and forget this entire encounter but his damaged voice sounded in the quiet air.

"Ivar Lodbrok is the owner of those eyes you have grown with in dream. The source of unending love and earned joy."

She turns back to the Seer at the mention of her blue eyed viking. She caught sight of a basket filled with trinkets and gold, a vessel of offering to the gods.

" I have only coin to offer." She spoke softly now, clear and consistent to her regular silken brogue.

The blue skinned guide shook his head. " Frigga asks for no offering from you."

Still, it felt outrageous to leave nothing in return, especially when she was brought into this culture and guided to this spiritual abode.

" I will offer my last bundle of Azaleas, I would feel a fool if I did not give something."

He smiled a rotted, toothy grin. One of the reasons the all mother had chosen the dark haired girl to take on such tasks was her unselfish nature.

"Is Ivar the reason I have been brought here?"

She may as well ask the obvious question.

" One of many, Lofn."

She wracked her brain for other possible reasons, more glaring ones came to mind.

" To heal people?"

" You will heal a great many, but you will not save more than what his blade massacres."

It was a hit to her heart, and the gravity of the man she had indeed loved for almost her entire life. He could possibly be a great many things to her, a lover and husband, a protector and doting yet, strict father but above it all, at the base of it all was his nature. His reputation for cruelty and prowess in battle, his cunning and great victories that secured his legacy in the pages of history. That was the man she was fated to, and she was all the more willing to ignore the violence she did not see to preserve her vision of greatness.

" And children?"

She was desperate to know of it, as strong and independent as she was, the dream of little ones running around filled her heart with great euphoria.

" Aye yes, Two sons, three daughters."

She did her best to hide the swell of happiness in her heart but continued the gentle interrogation.

" What reason more?"

The Seer gave no response, hesitant to continue on as such a heft had yet to be placed on another pair shoulders. He spent his long years serving the gods and those faithful to them, but he was a courier of victory and crops that would yield. Yesterday had been taxing, Ivar's quick temper and rage would have frightened all in its unfortunate path but this was contrasting. What notion of humanity left in the blinded mediator was now investing in placing an enormous future in the hands of one not deserving of any amount of suffering she would be made to withstand.

He took in a deep, frayed breath and spoke.

" Your joy will be accompanied with great and necessary anguish, Lofn Ulfrdotter."

The beam in her countenance had faded instantly, he could feel it.

" A great burden has been chosen by the All mother to rest on your shoulders and become anchor to your soul. There will be unavoidable choices you will have to make."

Lofn mirrored the frayed breath of the seer, modest tears rolled out of her eyes.

"I don't understand. Why me?"

He ignored her question, and continued onwards with his interpreted destiny.

" A grievous loss will result in the death of countless men."

" What loss, why? Why me?"

The break in her feathery voice was enough to cause a rip in even his indifferent heart.

" Because you have been bred to do so."

Lofn nodded with a quick acceptance but still confused by all this new, unpalatable information. It made her frustrated at first.

" Can I not just be happy with Ivar?" The frustration could easily turn into something more.

The young woman was not know widely for her fury, but she was still one with great spirit and provocation. She wiped the tears from her eyes and straightened her shoulders.

" Another covets your heart. One that should never be ignored or crossed."

Her lips spoke the name without thought.

" Halfdan."

The seer nodded.

" But you told me I would be with Ivar, birth his children-"

"Bliss must be earned. You must weather many storms, follow many paths."

Such dribble he was speaking and it was obstructing rational, reasonable questioning.

" What paths? What storms?"

She was growing impatient.

" Nothing the gods have deemed impossible to handle. The future of all Norsemen rest on your shoulders."

Lofn bit her tongue to refrain from unleashing a string of obscenities.

" My path will be my own." She countered with a fierce growl to her voice.

"It is your own, child."

She scoffed, disheartened and indignant with the metaphorical rot he spoke. The young Dane had heard more than enough, she would not stand here and subject herself to such negative rhetoric. These words would not drive her course in this new life, she would focus on the good and forget the faulty prophecy.

Her hands snatched her belongings and she was determined now to leave this all behind, to find Ivar and continue on from the night before. Unexpectedly shaking legs carried her to the door, but it was a voice so soft she was certain it did not come from the creature behind her.

" You must break him to form him."

It felt as though an arrow had pierced through the flesh and bone protecting her heart to stab away at the beating organ. A sob began to cut her throat and burned its way up, escaping finally in a fury of torment at the prospect of hurting Ivar in any way.

She would fight this fate. How could she accept such a cruel demand from anyone, no matter how powerful they may be. Lofn had regretted every step she had taken to windup in this glorified tent and she would not offer any god or their atrocious messenger any sense of recognition for promising and bestowing something so heartless.

The young woman burst into the street inhaling fresh, crisp air into her lungs. Her body heaved forward and the contents of her empty stomach spilled onto the dirt road and her sobs became silent and torturous. The entirety of the experience had left her feeling as her stomach did, empty but with a promise of fulfilment rewarded from suffering. Her world began to spin, but she was determined to make it back to the longhouse.

'Common Lofn, pull yourself together.' she scolded her brain to function.

After a few deep breathes she found a window of energy and willed herself to stand and move forward.


	12. His Fear

Chapter Eleven:

His Fear.

Ivar had woken with discomfort and a great deal of regret for falling asleep in a chair meant for dining. The awkward state of his body had all been forgotten as his thoughts promptly aligned themselves with his Lofn. His hands awoke with the remembrance of her flush curves held there, the trace of syrupy lavender lingered briefly in his nose to only tease his senses. His own lips were left imprinted by hers, like the softest of claims to his soul. When he opened his bluest of eyes, he was met with grave disappointment at the sight before him. Warriors all passed out from their love of ale and snoring like a den of bears and it caused his mood to sour. He wished he would have woken in the quiet of his own room, with the warmth of his woman beside him and a peaceful breath to rouse him gently. Truthfully, once he had claimed her to his bed, Lofn would have to fight to leave it once more but in judgement to the way she responded to him, there would not be much of a protest.

Ivar had good reason to keep her hidden, prophecy and gods be damned. As a great strategist, the warrior paid mind to every detail, whether it be miniscule or grand and the look that passed across Halfdan's dark eyes brought out a jealous rage in his heart. The calculated manner of his speaking and his body's openness to her when doing so. It didn't take him long to piece it together, this was his competition and for now, all that could be done is to protect her from other lustful eyes intent on stealing her away. The bodies splayed on the ground and chairs around him slowly began to stir, but he was missing from the crowd and Ivar grit his teeth together to keep the beserkers growl that threatened to fly out. Ivar had lived without fear for the entirety of his life, only recently had it begun to fester in his heart.

He feared the love he had for her and the foreboding dread of losing her before having the chance to keep her. This new emotion brought fourth something wonderfully wretched inside of him, a softness for only her that made him more brutal and commanding to all else. He stood from his chair and adjusted his black, leather cuirass, ready always for a fight and resolved to find her before engaging in a hunt.

The fresh morning air had no affect in calming his growing uncertainty and bubbling anger, if they didn't need their army, he would just kill both Halfdan and Harald and be done with it all. He couldn't, not yet at least, not until the sons of Ragnar had accomplished revenge for the murder of their father. His eyes scanned the area, and sighed with relief when he saw the men in question, gathered around with some of their men outside the boarding house. He remembered the day and the conversation he overheard Lofn speaking to the smallest Ironside the evening before, explaining all the ingredients she would go purchase at the market to make new sweets. Ivar had found himself paying the closest of attention to her interactions with his nephews, how incredibly natural and material her instincts were. She was the type of woman that would put herself in harms way to save the life of any youngster and he imagined she would tear a bear apart with her hands alone if it were her own child, his child. All he could end up picturing was a dark haired babe on her hip whilst she chased the others around, a thought his brothers would ridicule him for.

Ivar had gone the entirety of his life displaying little regard to fear or any inkling of love for anything more than battle and bloodshed that to show anything else would be met with gaping mouths and jeers. He would have to get over such foolishness if he meant to make such dreams a reality and he grinned wickedly recalling her promise last night. Words could be spoken then and she would never laugh at him, no matter how foolish or hopelessly lovelorn his words may be, but he had no idea how to even go about doing so. He was gruff and intentional with words, clever and calculated not reminiscent of a poet of bard. At least he wouldn't have competition with Halfdan in that sense, the man knew more of war than he and little of what was beyond the slit beneath a skirt.

He had to see her, there would be no lift in his mood otherwise.

There was a pause to his step before he could even do so and a rippling wave of nauseating unease settled in his body. He had not been the only one to notice the shifting in the environment but the dark haired viking was too involved in his current state to observe. He could feel her before he could see her, but it was a terrible merger of anxious thoughts and grief that came with her. Her pretty, amber eyes were full of tormented bewilderment and she appeared visibly shaken to her core and as if she were about to collapse. She had been to the seer, of that he was positive.

When Lofn caught his eye, her affliction began to ease off but he had all but sprinted to her to make sure she did not collapse into the muddy earth. She dropped her basket and gripped onto him, sinking in, grasping for silent comfort that he would always be willing to indulge. Her words were almost incoherent under the crackling sob of her sweet voice, but he could hear her well enough.

"Why do the gods live for such cruelty." It was not formed as a question but as more of a pained statement, one he understood better than any. The origins of her anguish had been confirmed by her comment only he imagined her fate to be far more devastating than his own, the thought bringing on an inner turmoil of his own. He wanted to kill the seer, force him to take back whatever fate he said to have caused any sadness in her heart, but instead he held that fury down and pulled her closer, she ducked her soft, perfumed head under his scruffy chin. Lofn rested her cheek to his collar, her body was growing heavy with exhaustion against him, the weight of prophecy clinging to her muscles and bones. She needed rest and time to gather her thoughts, of that it was clear.

"Come on, you need to rest." He spoke into her dark locks, kissing away at the tension in her temples.

Ivar ignored the ganders and glances as he guided her to his own room. Gawking and envious stares parted without question to the fiercest son of Ragnar and the only woman to ever occupy his thoughts. They were all nothing to him compared to the beauty by his side and he tasked himself with her protection like a living rune. He asked an older slave to pick up the basket discarded outside so that his sole awareness was on Lofn and any need she may have. This was nothing like battle, he was blind in this area of life but with the most sincere intentions. He was no healer, he could only inflict physical pain on others but his own instincts spoke to rest for she had just endured a battle of the mind. The adrenaline it must have taken her to process whatever words the grotesque instrument of the gods had spoken must have stole the energy from her body. He called back again, abruptly demanding food and water brought to his room. Ivar treated this moment in the same fashion he did after a raid, with a good meal and rest to recover his strength and wit once more.

He had reached his room and waited patiently for her to protest the location, but no such words came instead she smiled as brightly as she could muster and followed him through the door.

A plate of food and the discarded woven bag had followed them in with an obedient stillness, before disappearing once more. Ivar picked out the venison, learning of her distaste for it early on and the oddity of her aversion to meat. He singled out the boiled eggs, bread and apples but was caught off his task when her raspy, feminine voice carried through the air.

"Will you help me?"

If he could have stopped himself from turning, he would have. The sight before him was one that most men could only dream of witnessing in a lifetime. A beautiful woman gazing over her shoulder, a soft gaze petitioning him for assistance to remove her soiled gown. He hardly cared if she entered his bed with a muddy dress, but he felt obliged to aide her now even if the sight made him question his principles. Less fabric would stand between them if he did and so, with that came the temptation to claim her willing body. Still, he had to remind himself of her current position of venerability and as infamously violent as he was, he would not take advantage of it.

There were three laces to the back of the gown and if you were to ask Ivar years from this moment, he would have been able to tell you the exact length of each one and the pause time took as he pulled each one apart. A layer of the softest white fabric was all that stood between them now, her back exposed and long tresses pulled over one shoulder. She nimbly pulled down the dirty wool gown to her waist, pausing and suddenly aware of the next step that would be provocative given the closeness of his proximity. He could hear the hitch in her breath, and her contemplation was brief but when her perfectly round backside brushed against his manhood, his resolve began to weaken.

Every step she had taken from the seer's hut had been a deft one. She had moved as quickly as she could just to find him. To find Ivar and wrap herself in the comfort his presence had never failed bring her. The concern in his beautiful, soul crushing blue eyes had quelled her ragged breath and the very second she had found herself in his thick, open arms the anxiety slowed. Lofn could not control the whimper and fresh round of warm tears blurring her vision.

'Why do the gods live for such cruelty." She had spoken, the despair clear in her normally joyful tone.

She didn't wish to decipher the callous demands of the gods she hardly knew now. Her body was fatigued from the metal strain and all she could think about was the warmth surrounding her body and the wordless ease Ivar made her feel. The sincerity of his lips against her mop of dark hair was enough to make her sob harder in the bittersweet revelry, especially given what she had just been told. How could she conceivably break such a man, one that despite his historical reputation for military prowess, barbarity and all together immensity brought her so much joy. In turn, how could he potentially bring her so much pain and suffering under the guise of her love?

Her temples throbbed but his kisses brought such a splendid relief that she preferred it to her old trick of an Advil and ice pack.

When he expressed that she needed to rest, she silently agreed and moved in the direction he guided.

Lofn concluded instantly that he was going to pass her quarters and bring her to his own. She was content in his decision, his bed had been far superior to her own in its comfort and she would be glad to rest a while as a start to a great deal more stays between those furs.

Her limbs were so exhausted that she could barely pull down the sheath of her woolen dress. She didn't want to soil such a place, one soon to be deemed eternally as a sacred place.

'Will you help me?' words so innocent under any other circumstance. She gazed to him from behind her shoulder, watching him meticulously pick the meat from her plate. He had never questioned or jested like all the others when she voiced her general distaste for meat and the empathy she felt for all animals that led her to that place. He had then ordered the servants to keep it well away from her place at the table and offer legumes and grains instead.

When Ivar made his way to her body, she shuddered with anticipation as his long, thick fingers pulled away at the knots. Once freed she shimmed the shift down to her waist, then her body froze completely aware that her next move would set the pace clear. Lofn did not wish to think about whatever heartache or agonizing decisions stood in her way of happiness right now, she wanted a piece of the bliss promised so she had something to fight for. Boldness bent her forward slightly, to lose the remaining length of her dress. She brushed against his most sensitive area and felt his formidable arousal peak instantaneously.

"Lofn." His voice was a warning. Low and breathy and revealing of his sudden lack of control over this moment. His hands fell to the smallest part of her waist, holding her steady against him and attempting to gain some composure. However, her body had already decided the outcome and her own fingers interlaced with his own, guiding one to the swell of her breasts. A thin shift still stood between them.

"Lofn, you're distressed. You need rest." His words spoke firmly but his hands and breath spoke another story.

"Rest with me." She cooed, her head leaning back into his chest to expose more heaving flesh.

How he wanted to, he cursed every obscenity in his head over and over but this was not the time to have her no matter how badly his own body disagreed with his logic. He would give her every ounce of pleasure she desired but only after she had eaten, and rested and taken a sufficient amount of time to process the experience she had just endured. A telling of fate was not an easy one to take in, or make sense of no matter how clear the words but he had to be the one to keep a level head.

" You have no idea how much I want to take up that offer." He reluctantly moved his hands back to her waist and spun her around. " You need to rest alone, just for a while."

Ivar could not help stroke the soft tendrils of her dark hair, to reassure her heart of good intent but he was disheartened to find her eyes taking his word as rejection and she nodded before pulling away. Why were women so impossible to read!? Why could they not be simple and practical like a shield wall or axe?

"Thank you Ivar." feigned indifference made those words.

And he watched her slip beneath the furs on the very side he favored, suddenly envious of the skins. He waited there, patiently for her to fall into the quick sleep her body craved. He kissed her forehead, wanting nothing more than to crawl in beside her but now the sudden need to kill something permeated his senses. It would be the only thing to take his mind of this fear that still resided higher up in his body than he wished it too.


	13. Hello, Little Wolf

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks again for reading! I'm so happy everyone is enjoying it! So yeah, it is odd to have Ivar acting kind without the promise of gaining something out of it, But love is something pretty new to the guy so I think he deserves a bit of a break in that department, haha. I'm hoping to get another part up before the end of the night tonight, but no promises. I can, however, promise some real good stuff coming up..if you catch my drift ;) Thanks again, my lovelies!

Chapter Twelve:

Hello, Little Wolf.

Jilted and angered by his reaction, her nap had been cut short by a flurry of powerful emotions that brought a new rawness to her throat. She wanted to scream, she wanted to smack him and she was uncomfortable with it all. He had rejected her. 'Because you're weak. What sort of Viking cries?' her mind taunted her and she growled under breath, but she was not a Viking. Lofn was simply a young woman, surrounded by men and woman far greater, far stronger than she could ever be and that is why he did not take her. That is why he had changed his mind, for such a renowned source of a brute to have restrained himself so easily left little to wonder. If only she could have known how truly out of himself he had been, how terribly he wanted to claim her then she would quell her own bubbling rage.

She felt unlike herself as if she had consumed a piece of Ivar's temperance and it was trying to escape back to its owner.

The brunette threw the quilted furs off her shaking body and searched for her gown, only to find nothing in its absence. She could have easily just slipped into one of his tunics and pair of trousers, they would have to stay up well on her hips, but she did not want to give him any satisfaction of her defeat. Lofn cared little if anyone lingered in the great hall, her shift was all that stood between her nudity yet, she stormed through the room and into her own. Relief did wash over her when she had discovered it to be empty, a feeling she was growing aware of in her own body. Her stomach had yet to be filled and it was beginning to cramp from hunger. Lucky for her, these people needed constant fuel and she found a small plate of fruit, nuts, and bread most likely brought in this morning. With no one to watch her, she greedily picked away at some walnuts and apple slices taking a moment away to care about nothing but her hunger. Once finished, she set about her next task of dressing for the now afternoon and heading out for a walk to clear her head. Forest green seemed fitting for the environment she sought out, to be well covered by the ancient wisdom and silence of the woods will bring about a good peace and silence her enmity and doubt. She emerged quietly, with an earthy hued cloak covering her visage, anonymity was her ally in the streets now above all others.

''My dear girl.'' the familiar, aging voice stopped her light feet.

She turned, willing herself to see the figure of comfort the elder woman had once represented, instead

was an aura of betrayal that Lofn had yet to move past. The gray haired healer was walking towards her, intent on embracing the younger woman but a defensive hand stopped her.

"Don't! I am not ready to forgive you."

"Lofn," it was a voice of reason she was yet to accept

"Amma, you had years to warn me."

She was done asking a question that would bear the fruit of cryptic answers, what she wanted now was the tranquillity the coastline of forest could provide for she was in the presence of untouched lands.

" Warn you. How could I? How could a little girl have understood, let alone accept it as more than a fairytale?"

It was her grandmother's turn to be on the defensive, and rightfully so but she remained to understand of the complexity of it all.

"This is far from a fairytale. The princess never has gross amounts of heartache weighing on her soul."

She had ended their conversation with a string of melancholy, silently she gathered herself and left the royal home.

Runa stood on the wooden deck, observing the path in which her granddaughter took. She almost felt her legs jump forward in response to her disappearance into the western wood, one she had yet to travel. It was, however, at this stage of the young woman's anger, she would be unreachable with reason and all she could do was say a prayer to Frigga to keep her safe.

Dusk had settled in the evening when a large group of men returned to Kattegat flanked by a great deal of stag and elk. It had become a quick competition between two men and the others simply watched or veered off to conduct their own hunt. Between Ivar and Halfdan they secured most of the game present. Ivar counting two hefty stag, and one elk whilst Halfdan killed two sizable elk after hunting down a small herd and thinning it out immensely. Their childish clash had been silenced by Bjorn' reveal of a wild boar with tusks the length of a short sword and body like a small black bear.

"Perhaps I should take Lofn on as a second wife, Ivar." It had been meant of course as a light of heart jeer, but he had received it as a great insult and internally, he fumed.

His mood had been nothing short of deadly since walking away from her willing body, he had fought against every carnal instinct to throw her down and fuck her into a deep sleep. Now he was looking for every excuse to kill something to draw his mind away from his mistake and his older brother seemed a fitting target, but instead he tied the carcasses together and heaved them into an empty cart brought for just that. When he arrived home, his only intention was to make up for that shortcoming. To find her, claim her and ruin her completely for any other man to follow. It would be a difficult task, given his lack of experience but if the night prior had been any example, his muscles moved to touch her without any hesitation. With luck, she would be waking soon, and after some nourishment, they could make up for time lost. He wanted her to scream, he desired that everyone hear her affirmations and he wished for nothing more than for Halfdan to suffer from it.

However, when Ivar arrived ahead of the group, he was met with worried expressions and deep concern. The healer that had helped him find his stride barrelled towards him, her normally immaculately kept, woven braid was frayed from a visible distress. Torvi stood back, assuring her youngest that it would all be alright and the man's head went to the darkest of places. He prepared himself to hear of her death and by all accounts would find himself in a blind rage of grievance, prepared to wage war on the gods for stealing her away.

"She hasn't come back yet."

He was relieved in a sense but was now faced with the idea of her being lost in the darkness of night.

"Where is she?" He demanded more abruptly than he had hoped it would come out. His tone was ferocious, all those around froze in fright.

The rest of the party had caught up, now witness to the words spoken.

"She was upset, she went west into the wood." Runa tried to remain calm but her love for her granddaughter and fear for her safety was enough to render her useless. She held onto the belief that her Lofn was a clever girl and could surely survive on her own but she wanted her here, in one piece and happy, to add.

" It is fine brother, Runa, we will go find her." Ubbe clapped his brothers back roughly to pull him out of himself.

"I will join you." Halfdan smiled, offering his support with ill intent for his motivations were much the same as Ivars but with less regard to seeing her as nothing more than the spoils of a raid.

"We don't need your help." If Ivars' tongue had been in the way of his gritted teeth, it would have been bitten clean off. His behavior words were childish at best at the threat of having something taken away from him.

"Ignore Ivar, We need all the help we can get, the more bodies, the more ground we cover." Bjorn smacked his brothers head for allowing his pride to overcome him. There would be time to bicker later, for now, they were to make haste of this task and feast upon returning. "Make sure there is plenty food and drink for our return."

The great beast of a man dwarfed his stallion and he leads the charge into the woods, Ivar had been quick to follow, spurred on by the satisfying smirk plastered on the older Vikings inked face.

After walking for at least an hour, Lofn had found herself lost in the tranquillity of the forest. Metaphorically so, of course. She had followed the coastline so that she may find her own way back, but she was nowhere near ready to do so. When she had reached a perfect spot, her legs hit the ground and crossed ever so smoothly into a meditative position. There was a break in the tall evergreens, giving way to the light of the moon and its mesmerizing reflection on the water. She missed her father, so desperately and under the protection of the wood, felt misplaced without him. A great many springs, summer and even fall and winter weekends had been spent in a tent or cabin, deep in nature and experiencing the untouched beauty of it all. He would point often pass on tales of folklore or words of prose, repeating many times about how the gods had taken burning sparks and embers to light the way of those above and below. He was a perfect storyteller, her father often repeating books and tomes from memory with enough gusto and drama to fill up several men's worth. It was always just for Lofn, whom would giggle and gawk with fear and awe. She would always be so wrapped up in his stories that her marshmallow would burn to a crisp.

There would never be a time in her life where she wouldn't mourn his absence, he would miss out on so many moments in her adult life. He would never know grandchildren or give her away, never comfort her with terrible sci-fi and oozing grilled cheese. Lofn choked out a sob and sent out her words of love into the air, hoping that the stars would pass them through the years and stop only when they reached her father hundreds of years later.

How was she to go about this all, how could she possibly be worth what these gods had invested into her? As far as history went, not much beyond his livelihood was known about Ivar, heirs existed but with no mention of a great love. By that logic, she did not exist even though there she sat, in a wooded clearing in the middle of Viking-inhabited Denmark being pulled to Ivars world with the strongest gravitational pull. Up until this point, the sons of Ragnar had not fulfilled their quest of revenge so perhaps, it was the gods intent for her to see it through. It would be part of her cause to use all the information deemed useless from her old life in this new one, but what of Ivar?

What of the love for him that suffocated her heart? And what of Halfdan and the peculiar effect he had on her? She wanted to scream and curse at the moon for its indifference to her plight, howl like the little wolf the later claimed her to be. These tears were becoming a nuisance, a plague on her emotions and she had to be stronger now.

At the top of her lungs, she wailed at the beaming circle in the night sky, gifting it with the last remaining bones of a tormenting lament. Inhaling once more like she had in that field of yellow those many weeks ago and starting anew. Her head was hardly clear of thought or question but, for now, she could head back and begin her journey properly.

"Hello, Little Wolf."

A deep voice carried through the wood and she knew it's owner and with him came that same unsettling feeling in her stomach and heaviness to her heart.

"Did you take a walk to howl at the moon?"

His joke had caused more of a reaction than she thought it would and heeding the Seers' warning, she offered a light giggle. "I was clearing my mind, I have lost track of the time it would seem."

His appearance was softer than earlier, a royal blue tunic timed in with knotted leather covered his torso and a tawny fur cloak fell naturally across his broad shoulders. He was still an imposing figure regardless of what he wore, the same as any of them, they could be stark naked and still more deadly than any.

"And what does your mind say to you now?"

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath his heavy boots as he casually strode towards her. "The whole of Kattegatt is worried about you, fearful you wouldn't survive." his grin was playful now but there was a constant craze to his eyes and it was more noticeable in the moonlight, but it had softened with something she couldn't place. Her mind was asking her to be weary of a fearsome Viking under the shroud of moonlight but she was in the mood to ignore the warning of bells, she wanted to be amiable now and forget for a time.

"Worried," She scoffed "It's good to know they all believe me to be so daft," she paused and gave a grin of mischief, "And you, Halfdan, were you among the worried?" She was brazenly testing her footing with the dangerous warrior, but apart from losing herself in the glowing orb of light ahead, she needed some form of entertainment.

She was met with a hand as intricate and beautifully inked as his face, glowing against the bright night sky. She held on and she shot to her feet. How impossibly strong these men were, she was not a large woman but she was not petite either and he lifted her to stand as if she weighed the same as a feather. The force almost sent her soaring.

"I wasn't worried, you are not a foolish woman." His hand still held onto hers and he pulled Lofn closer so that he may whisper. "How could a wolf get lost in the forest?"

It was hard to see his smile beneath his dark blonde beard but his there was an amused inflection in his deep voice.

She had thought for a brief moment, that she should simply ask Halfdan to take her away. To escape whatever fate awaited her, whatever heartache lay dormant on the horizon could be halted, he would not refuse her. When he caught her eye she felt a sense of trepidation swirling in her heart. She could run, give up and defy the gods in every way and in the end, it mattered little. He was not Ivar and she could not bow out so easily but there was a matter at hand to keep him allied to the sons of Ragnar and she hoped her friendship would prove enough worth.


	14. Amidst The Furs

A/N: Hi readers, heres the next chapter, take it slow, there won't be another update until next Friday.

Chapter Thirteen:

Amidst the Furs.

'I could stand watch brother, while you take her.' Harald's offer had not gone without contemplation but she was no slave, nor a quivering, empty sheath fighting against his advances. Of course, such thoughts crossed his mind and any man with eyes would mull over the same ambition but the seer had foretold her coming to him by her own choice. His own brother had waited eight years for his wife to give in to his relentless quest for her affections and he had been rewarded with sons.

Halfdan would play this no differently, she may go to the former cripple and it would crush his pride for a short while until he manoeuvred his way to her. This was his gift for servitude to the gods, his Valhalla on earth but he questioned his limitations.

When he came upon her, howling at the moon he had wished that he gave his brother the clearance to stand guard. It would not be an impossible task, to fill her with his seed and abduct her back to their beautiful piece of Norway. She could assimilate herself and grow into her love for him and he would be uncompromising in the take to will her so. It would leave the Ragnarson's powerless against their army of berserkers with no inhibitions in battle, they would be forced to respect the old way.

There was still a lingering trace of fear in her amber eyes when he set his sights upon her, but that hardly made her weak. She was wise to feel some form of fright around him for she was ignorant to the level of ferocity and ruthlessness he was capable of. Halfdan would never think twice about correcting a woman with his fist, but he enjoyed her face to the point that he wouldn't think of marring it.

Her defiant nature was endearing at best, jovial and harmless but it was still a significant jolt to his perception of a woman's place. She had allowed him to guide her back to Kategatt and had listened to her eloquent tongue wrap around words like delicious vines winding about his ears. She spoke of why she enjoyed healing and her hopes to travel with raiding parties to use her skills and, discover new herbs to use in tonics. He had never been so appeased to listen to a woman's voice and he did just that, offering few words, but that was his nature. Action had always been favoured more than word but the gentle lull of her voice had been interrupted by the guttural rage of a mere boy.

It would have been enough to see her, more than enough to gaze at his woman completely void of harm but she was on _his_ arm for the entire kingdom to observe and Ivar had lost whatever remained of his poise.

"What were you thinking, Lofn!"

She jumped at his raised voice, hardly surprised by his outburst but caught off guard nonetheless. She was understanding of his anger, to appear so carefree after he had been so panicked and with a man he had deemed an adversary must have pushed him off the edge. Now he was taking it out on her, in front of what felt like the entire world to see.

" I went for a walk. I lost track of time." He stared at her with heated blue eyes spelling out his disappointment. " I'm sorry to have caused any trouble." Her gaze followed those gathered around in several hunting parties.

"It took no time all all Lofn, Thank you Halfdan for finding my sons favourite playmate." Bjorn extended a hand in gratitude, the eldest of all the brothers simply wished to feast and drink and go to bed with his wife but Ivar was a quiver of loose arrows. Bjorn would be damned if he allowed the younger man's covetous madness to ruin the relationship between their most important ally.

" Thank you everyone, for your concern." She smiled at the men around her and they too dismissed themselves with an eagerness for food and drink. " Thank you Halfdan, for your company."

A friendly, flirtatious lift in her voice served to jar Ivar for his public belittlement of her. She was running on dangerous grounds. On one hand, her tone would only supplied more spirit in Halfdans pursuit but on the other, it served justice to Ivar for causing her to feel ashamed and unwanted by him.

" My pleasure, Lofn."

She tried to ignore the way he spoke her name, as if it were something he owned but she had been reminded of her anger towards Ivar and hastily pushed past him. She had left the two men, both attempting to kill one another with their eyes and while she deemed it flattering, the frustration it carried was not worth the ego boost. She wanted to clunk their heads together and promptly remind them of her own free will.

Lofn had to stop and apologize to all she could, but to her grandmother most of all. She found the head of grey hair and coiled her arms around her, silently asking forgiveness. Like so many times before, the older woman accepted it readily, as if it were as simple as a broken vase or spill.

The dark haired woman did not think she gave enough just yet, "I am truly sorry for my hurtful words."

The aging healer shushed the girl she had a difficult time picturing as a young woman. She was content to hold her a short while and felt secure in her safety, she could rest for the night now. Runa assured Lofn that she would be fine without the extra noise of boisterous, drunken Vikings and was eager to stay with an old friend. The young woman finally unravelled herself from her Amma, but her gaze had been caught against his, still a furious storm of fervour.

She took in a deep breath and stormed away into her quarters, she was done for the evening.

He was not.

Ivar burst into her room after her and slammed the door with a mighty push. She turned to him with a daring glower brewing in her fiery eyes.

"What were you doing out there, hmm?" he growled. "Were you laughing about me while you fucked him?" He rounded on her, his body closing in on his prey and imposing his size and brawn to test her reaction but he was met with a hard, open palm across his cheek. He gritted his teeth and curled his lips into a dangerous smirk.

"What do you think I am? A whore?" She spat.

His head quirked to the side and hands gestured to something unseen.

" That is what it looked like, why else would you be hanging off him like a desperate fawn?"

"Get out!" She demanded, hearing enough of his insulting words. He didn't deserve to hear her reasoning now.

Was this the heartache the seer spoke of? Was she now to be subjected to his infamous cruelty whilst remaining thoroughly, wholly in love with him?

How could he be so vile in his word against her? She fought off the tears she had promised herself to no longer expel.

"No." His word was firm and left little room to counter but the opposition in her nature would not allow him to disregard her direction so easily.

"You will be known in the pages of history for your cruelty, but not with me." She paused, their eyes in a standoff with both parties unwilling to relent. "I will go then."

"You won't."

Another bout of indifference in his voice.

"Excuse me?"

" Why were you out there, Lofn? Why were you linked to Halfdan and gifting him your smile?"

She contemplated just pushing back with all her might, walking past him and away from this arduous life and living amongst the trees with her grandmother. Live out the rest of her days whelping babes, healing aches and pains, stitching away the agony of others whilst afflicting one of another sort upon herself. Nothing was simple anymore, and the uncertainty of each day was draining her nervous system entirely.

It was in the moment she looked up to him, his emotions and insecurities bare to her and worn completely on the sleeve of his armour that she decided against a cowardly way out.

Whatever he was and would become to the rest of the world in time, was irrelevant as in this juncture in time, he was himself. Ivar was a warrior, a militant strategist and man capable of such legendary barbarism that even the very act of love was treated as such. It was a feeling foreign to his being, and the risk of losing it had only served to amplify his rage.

"I went for a walk, and I was only talking to him. He was being kind."

"Halfdan. Kind?" His tone had softened only slightly but the intensity in his eyes had not yet vanished. "He is a dangerous man, Lofn."

She scoffed then, wishing to roll her eyes at the cliche spilling from his mouth. "And you, Ivar. You're even more so."

A smile spread across his lips, one that sent a chill formed from fear and craving down her spine. He began to move closer, slowly and at a meticulous pace, but so much weighed on her mind.

"I am sorry, Ivar. The seer-"

"Don't talk about the seer now." His pace halted, he interrupted and his face twitched with annoyance. He wanted to set the seer and gods completely ablaze now.

He didn't truly believe she had done more than speak to Halfdan but he was more concerned at her lack of preparedness. Not a single soul that met her, disliked her, in fact they often sought her company out whenever they could. He could blame no man, woman nor child that competed for her attentions, but he could not simply stand back and watch someone thoroughly unworthy of her heart steal it away.

Ivar knew this was a foolish thought to ponder for more than mere seconds, every bone in his body spoke to her loyalty to him and despite his resentment at most words the seer had spoken, her love had been clear. Whatever hardship or woe was planted in their way would be no match, they would uproot it and resow to their hearts content.

Ivar didn't know how to express himself, not well enough in the way she truly deserved but his selfish heart would never relent. He had felt a pain in his chest when she had rightfully accused him of wielding a torch of cruelty against her. He had meant nothing by it, his anger misplaced and he completely naive to its effect.

He had gone his entire life unaware of his nature, considering it would be a compliment to his culture and upbringing.

There it was again, the distress of her heart echoing through her body, dulling the light in her molten eyes. He was unsure of his next move, second guessing himself in battle would mean the sure death of both he and the men that followed but he did not favor the sadness she wore. Ivar was still at war, the opponent was the conflicting natures inside his chest; the monstrous fighter and a simplistic man in love. He couldn't tell her, he could only show her.

His look was unlike anything she had ever seen him wear but, it wasn't a gaze so foreign to her eyes. She wasn't naive, a man filled with desire is an easy thing to spot but, his dark eyes were stocked with more than just that. Lust, yearning, tenderness, familiarity, and love. It was the last emotion that caused her to both stand, and step back, his concern drove him forward to steady her shaking feet.

"Lofn" He breathed her name.

With a audible growl he claimed her lips with the hunger of ten starved men. If it wasn't for his firm grip on her slender waist, her knees would have given way. She succumbed to his tongue, willingly revelling in the sweet and spicy taste of him, what she had longed for since the very second she had laid eyes on him. The kiss turned into something more. An entity of its own slow, sugary and, meant to portray every emotion, for every year they had been apart.

Ivar's hands began to roamed the body he dreamt of many nights with the fever of a teenage boy. Her curves were the most delightful gift, made by the Gods. She felt too perfect to be real and he had to pull back a moment to make sure. Her earthy waves were tousled, a flush to her cheeks, full lips parted. Her beautiful, ochre eyes fluttered open, she whispered his name with a throaty purr as if to give permission. Ivar gently griped her hair, kissing her once more. Both sets of hands moved with fervour. They fumbled with each others clothing with need and desperation. They breathed heavily, only parting for a short while to admire their bareness before connecting once more. She cried out with joy when his heat covered her body. She marvelled at the feel of every firmed muscle created by battle, every ripple of heated flesh that excited her. Lofn felt his hardness against her hip then, the overwhelming desire to touch. She found her courage, gripping his shaft and stroking gently. It elicited a sharp moan of pleasure from his throat as he broke from her lips.

"I don't know if I'll last long with you doing that."

It was a wonder as to how he even got out the warning, the swirl of raw, unclouded passion coursed through his veins. He had to prolong this for as long as he could, live in this moment as if it were the first and last time he would ever have her this way. He pulled back, too far it seemed as her face dropped at the loss of warmth.

She whimpered out, softly. She was aching for him, wet, empty, and in love but, he assured her with a wickedly devious smile, cupping her flushed cheeks in his hands.

"I don't want it to end quickly."His voice was hoarse with the flood of everything, all at once.

Lofn smiled at his confession, her hands played at the thick, coarse unkept stubble of his strong jawline then into the dark hair free from his growing, warriors plait. He closed his eyes as she massaged away the tension in his scalp. She had to feel his lips once more, to show kissed lightly at first, her full lips pecking away, she licked the opening and his beautiful, blue eyes darkened by lust shot open and he latched onto her mouth with a wistful embrace. Breathless, she pulled back.

"Ivar" She whispered.

Then, before he could reply, she took hold of one of his hands and, brought it to her entrance. Courage in blind lust had taken hold of her completely now, he had to feel the influence his very presence had on her body.

He didn't need further instruction as he plunged one, then two calloused fingers inside her slick sex. She cried out and grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself. He held her steady, the bed seemed too far away but he made it there and pushed her back onto the soft furs.

She was empty again and gave a frustrated groan. Ivar grinned at the protest, but he wasn't done with her just yet. He wanted to taste her, but was reminded of her upbringing and the protest she may have towards the act. When he caught sight of her there, on his bed, completely bare before him, he lost his mind.

He loomed over her and began to kiss every inch of her neck, then to her graceful shoulders. Below them, beautiful, full breasts and perked nipples just awaiting his hot mouth. Lofn shuddered and moaned against his lips, digging her hands into his scalp with a desperate need. He could have stayed there longer but, his kisses didn't stop there, slowly easing his way down to her flat stomach and round hips.

He found his way to her most sacred place, the smell of her arousal intoxicating and spurring him onwards. He wouldn't have heard a protest if he wanted to, in the haze of worship at the hairless entrance. He didn't question it, he assumed it to be a mark of her refinery and cleanliness, but he was grateful for it. Ivar began to nibble at the flesh of her thighs, teasing and testing.

Her hips bucked, he held her steady, and pushed her knees upwards, then indulged himself in a taste. Like the sweetest honey, almost floral and he was completely lost within it, suckling, plundering every, slick, aching part of her core.

Lofn was caught off guard by his actions, surprised they were even privy to sexual knowledge like this but she would hardly move to stop him.

Like the rest of her body, she was bare down there, she knew it was odd, of course, but enjoyed the way silk felt against hairless skin. It was all pointless to think of anything other than the blinding pleasure being experienced between her legs. Ivar was expertly swirling his tongue around her slick, heated core and a pressure was mounting against it. Every muscle began to tense, her moaning and breathing became louder, and laboured. Hands gripped at the furs beneath her and she, absent from her mind began to plead for him to cease but, secretly hoping he wouldn't.

Her verbal turmoil only urged him on, probing her with his tongue, lapping her sensitive bud, knowing full well her completion would arrive shortly. Her legs clenched tightly around his head and she worried for a moment that she may crush it but the velvet enveloping her clouded that judgement. She came hard and, fast against his face, her screams could be heard through the halls.

The thought of every ear outside her door hearing his claim only aroused him more, igniting a fire he had never felt before. He came up from the delicious meal he had devoured to find her breathing heavily, a soft glow emitting from her skin and caught in the aftermath of a blissful orgasm. One of his doing and he smiled, wiping the remaining nectar from his stubble, he kissed her warm stomach, slowly inching his way to meet her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue she silently worshipped, the bulk of his necklace rested against her thumping heart.

There was something so naturally animalistic about the rise of heat and need for him, her body moved like a skilled soldier, gripping her long, curvaceous legs around his hard, lean torso and twisting herself.

She was on top of him now, admiring every hard line of well earned muscle and every scar that made it all the more appealing. She wondered if he had even noticed the token of hate she wore on her own body. She would not linger on it for long, there was the most pleasurable of work to be done.

She rocked against him, and he growled her name in warning. She rocked again, breathing laboured as she rocked against his fully roused member. Ivar sat up, kissing her chest and holding her firmly against him, attempting to control her torment as she rocked back and forth, teasing his arousal, "Fuck me" her crude words were utterly beautiful as she growled into his neck.

He groaned out, losing control by the minute, ready to take something he had been yearning for as long as he had the desire to do so.

"Fill me, my love", It was a whisper so quiet into his ear but it spoke louder in his mind and body. He held her and twirled around, slamming her down onto the bed, he needed to be on top as their bodies intertwined. Ivar entered her in one quick motion, covering her moan with his own. He could have finished right then at the feeling of her warmth, her tightness around him, made for him, like the rest of her lustrous form. She gripped onto the battle hard muscles of his broad back and braced herself.

His forehead fell against hers, heat and sweat began to mix as he began the rhythmic dance between them began. Ivar felt not one ounce of sympathy for anyone listening in to the lovers embrace. The pride he felt at the noises on the lips and the sight of her arching form was overwhelming, spurring him on further more than any fight. He imagined that must be how a goddess must look in the throws of passion, glowing and kissed by the love. It was becoming more difficult to hold himself together, his release was near but, his deliberately slow thrusting was meant to give more pleasure to his Lofn.

He was pulled from his brief thoughts back to his lovely woman, her nails creating a pattern of crescents in his broad back. She nodded, he picked up the pace, his grunting became coarse, booming, her moans were plentiful, filled with unquestionable lust. It was in silence that their eyes conveyed their conclusion, as they contracted in orgasm together.

Moments passed with silence as the lovers caught their breath, unwilling to move from their embrace. Ivar rolled onto his back and brought Lofn's body along with him. He peppered light kisses along her hairline and held her closely. She lazily traced the scars on his lean and powerful torso, she would memorize them and remember to inquire when her wits were back about her. The young Viking and his woman were still swirling in a pool of pleasure, consumed by flames.

"It is hard for me to say it."

Ivar had broken the comfortable silence.

Lofn shifted onto her elbows to look into his face, it was a serious gaze as he lazily, tracing circles against her luscious, round backside.

"I know it." she paused, suddenly remembering her fears. " I'm frightened of what fate the gods have given me."

"Fuck the Gods!"

He had shot upright, catching her off guard in his brewing storm of well placed disdain but he held her face, forcing her focus.

" I will not let anyone tell me what to do. We control our fate."

She wanted to believe him, he wanted to believe himself. After now having had her in the most intimate of ways, he didn't want to picture a future without it.

The look in his eyes made her truly want to affirm it all, but they both knew better. His gaze still spoke defiance and Lofn readily joined him in it. They would have to fight for it, but there was nothing in this world more worthy of that cause.

With his grip firm he pulled her back down amidst the furs, and held her in a gentle possession waiting until she fell asleep to whisper words he could not yet speak to her lovely face. 'I love you'

The barely audible string of three words had reached her ear before she drifted off into a dreamless slumber.


	15. After Dark

A/N: Holy crap, thanks again everyone for all the reading and support and feedback. I'm still have lots of fun writing and I'm ecstatic that everyone is so into it. Heres the next chapter, see you all next week. Warning, this one is kind of dark..

 **Chapter Fourteen:**

 **After Dark.**

 _Lush green as far as her eyes could gather, the smell of pine and sea and crisp air. She gazed into a steel blue sky and silvery full moon lighting her path before. Her bare footing was light and the brunette almost floated across the plains, silky blue gown billowing against a soft breeze. Lofn could touch the high growth of wild wheat and bluestem grass and she carried onwards, blissful and carefree. Mirthful birdsong played like a soundtrack to her motions, she could feel the cool, grassy ground beneath her feet and she walked through the seemingly endless pasture. The smell of the salty shores was becoming less and less and the scent of pine more fragrant. She strolled peacefully, picking long stems of wheat and grass, braiding them together absentmindedly._

 _In the distance the crackling of falling trees resonated in the winds, but they were not toppling- only rooting and grounding themselves to the earth, some small and some scraping the moon._

 _Lofn felt a wave of uncertainty, her breath reflected such in its sudden shaky intake. The wood was dark, and the gentle humming of drums coiled around the current and the sky had transformed to the darkest ebony and the silvery moon howled in warning._

 _The setting before was ominous and fateful, yet, her body gave no warning other than the softer intake of breath as this pleasant dream was becoming the stuff of nightmares. An odourless smoke billowed out from the trees in a ominous huff of warning but her feet ignored such metaphors. Slowly, deliberate in each step, the young woman crept forward into the shroud of forest. The soft cooing of sweet birds had morphed into the frightful cawing of crows and she felt a wave of nausea creep in at the sudden intrusion of metal assaulting her taste and smell. The foul stench of gore offended her sensibilities and as he amber eyes took in the sights surrounding her, it only grew worse. Her insides turned and wrenched away from the though of spilling the contents of her stomach. Lit by braziers along a path, was that of horror. Lifeless, mangled, decaying bodies of men and women had formed into a pathway of mortem and butchery. Brown eyes, green eyes, blue and grey all looking upon her, barren of breath yet, a window wide open to tell tale of their suffering._

 _What cruel joke were the gods playing now on her slumbering mind? These were the bodies of prophecy warning. These were the necessary sacrifices of flesh to breed an immortal glory on display like her very own museum of terror._

 _She could feel the dampness rolling down her cheeks, silently mourning every fallen body that she passed. Lofn wanted to memorize each face that though, she would be solely culpable of. It was then, lost in the guilt of her own conclusion, she felt a sickening, liquid warmth beneath her feet. Thick, oozing blood now covered the route ahead, but she continued on, inefficient in stopping her own sturdy legs._

 _Her eyes began to grow wide at the top of the path, sitting high on a throne of skull and bone, and golden spoils was Ivar. His Merciless cobalt eyes coated in soot and ash set upon her and were then filled with pride and a fury of adoration and a brief glint of tenderness. There was something in him that caused her heart to flutter enough to forget every deceased face behind her. Ivar was glorious and godlike, coated in blood soaked armour and built of hardship, cruelty and tradition. She imagined his enemies quivering before him, begging for clemency and receiving only steel and malice in its stead. He stood from his well earned seat, walking with a heavy step towards her, the blood of the slain splashing around him, coating them with a triumphant requital._

 _Ivar knelt before her, both knees coated in the thick carnage surrounding them. He kissed her stomach whispering against it._

 _"_ _Vetr, Vetr, you've been avenged, rest now."_

 _The words were thicker than the human filth beneath them, they were impossible to process but her womb had swiftly felt like an empty chasm of anguish. When he pulled back, his mouth was red with blood._

 _Lofn looked down, her hollow stomach bled with desolation and longing for something unseen._

Amber eyes shot open and she sat up in bed, instinctively holding her surely empty womb. The nightmarish vision had caused a hitch in her reality, her body shook and her breathing rapid. She had to fight off the tears and denied every single stitch of it all.

She had never slumbered with such horrifically vivid pictures nor had she ever woken with such an odd weight on her heart.

Lofn looked about the room but was suddenly aware that is wasn't hers. Ivar must have moved her in favour of comfort, but most likely for the chance to best Halfdan with a show of his spoil. She hadn't felt him carry her, but she was here nonetheless, alone.

It was concerning that her body was bare, had he carried her through the great hall like that?

Water, or any liquid really at this point would suffice to calm her rattled nerves. Perhaps ale or wine would be the finer of choices, hardly modest in the comfort of his room, she rolled out from the comfort of the furs in search of it. On the same table that served as it's home, she found a pitcher of ale and poured herself a substantial cup. She guzzled it down with abandon, hoping the alcohol would produce results swiftly.

After the second cup, she felt her nerves begin to calm and suddenly, the soreness between her legs set in.

It had not been the first time Lofn had engaged in such activities in her life, though her first time with Ivar. The difference this time had been the undeniable fire and earnest ardour between she and the legendary Viking. The aching of her body was almost delicious in a way and her thought fell back to their coupling, wondering when the next time would arise.

The start of a physical need and outright addiction that could only be satiated by him, and of course, he was no where to be found.

She wanted to be distracted now, not left alone to decipher the looming prevision.

Lofn waiting a few moments longer.

The young woman could feel the effect of the ale warming her muscles and she took it as a sign to be social, to seek him out. Naturally, she assumed Ivar was fresh out of women's gowns but on second glance she could see one of her own, neatly folded in a chair by the bedside.

It was a softer wool, one she used on warmer days, the colour was grey with a simple swirl of green trim. She slipped it over her naked form and was happily surprised that it did not scratch at her body.

A swirl of spirit swelled in her body and mind as the ale was expelling its magic. She was sure she looked a mess but concluded that a quick braid would throw off leering, judgemental eyes.

A jubilant roar filled the hall as she entered and the embarrassment flooded her cheeks. Her eyes searched out Ivars, to save her from the cheering and full pledge of attention but her heart sank when she caught another.

Almost murderous in its state of yearning, Halfdan's dark eyes were scanning her face, his pride wounded yet, still salvageable. He wrestled with the brewing violence in his heart to offer a raised glass and undaunted smile. Her reply had satisfied him, for he took small comfort in the remorseful simper offered back. His fight was only just beginning.

There was another body on hers within seconds of the exchange, a grown woman clinging onto her new friend.

"So, he's done it then?" Torvi slurred, the effect of wine had caused her speech to stager.

A cheeky smile spread across Lofn's lips, she ignored the bruised feeling. " fucked me, you mean?" She covered her mouth, shocked by her own vulgarity.

The blonde woman snorted out with laughter and slapped the brunette on the back with a hearty whack, fitting more of a warrior than a fierce mother.

"Have you seen him, by chance?"

Her friends face turned serious in spite of her drunken state. "They're talking war and revenge, we are not meant to disturb them."

"Where?" Lofn countered, but her friend shot her a grave look of warning.

Of course they wouldn't want women there. Even though all information would point her to Vikings seeing women as equals or giving them more rights than even some modern cultures, there were still lines. Nevertheless, she had answers, and knowledge that would prove useful, hell, she could draw out every battle for them. The years of listening to her father and grandmothers tales, all the books, every single tidbit of wisdom she had could finally pay off. The ridicule she endured because of it could now be forgotten.

"The armoury out back." Torvi conceded without much effort.

With an intake of confident breath and sudden surge of daring, Lofn sought out said space. She had never entered the sacred place of a warrior before and imagined the walls lined with instruments of chaos and death.

When the fresh, cool night air hit her, she felt a sudden chill against her lightly covered flesh and sobered almost instantly. An eerie wave crashed and flooded down her spine and she was aware of a presence around her, so she walked around the longhouse to move from it.

The Armoury was not far from here, a few houses away but with the dying light of braziers, weaving the dark corners brought a panic to her heart. Anyone could be lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike her down, or worse. At the same moment she cursed herself for such stupidity in though, she then cursed herself once more at the weight of a hard body against her, and hand over her mouth.

Lofn was slammed against the hard wooden frame of an abandoned stable. She had half expected Ivar, maliciously proving a point about safety, and half expected Halfdan, to try and persuade her away from Ivar.

Bewilderment had truly struck her when she was met with neither. It was the brother of the latter, his stalky frame held her against the wall with a riled expression that completely unnerved her. The tattoos on his face were just as captivating as his younger blood but with what light she had, seemed all the more fatal.

"If you scream, I'll just kill you." he was almost jovial in tone yet, no less frightening.

He was much shorter than Halfdan, but King Harald was no less imposing in stature.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away from her now trembling lips.

"You've got my brother in quite a state, healer."

She was unsure of how to respond, but his string of words continued. "I can see why." his eyes began to undress her very soul, and the feeling of violation began to overcome the fear.

"Please." She countered. His eyes snapped up. In this lack of light they appeared black but she tried to remember the charming, sea blue from the day prior.

"Please what, girl?" He paused, backing up slightly with his hands raised in an offering of peace. " I'm only here to talk."

His smile was predatory at best, and after threatening her life right out of the gate Lofn deemed her sass unfit for this situation.

"I've offered him my friendship. He is very kind."

Harald's bought of somber laughter was enough to congeal the blood in her body.

"Halfdan is not kind, girl. Normally he would have just taken you by now, fucked you into the dirt until you broke."

The punctuated violence in his words caused her to shudder at the thought of it and she hoped this was only a means to frighten. The older man began his march forward once more as he spoke.

"He doesn't want to hurt your pretty face and hips that would bare his children though."

A lose strand of hair covered her face and he gently wound his finger around it, inhaling the lovely scent. The thought of taking her had already passed through his mind at lease a dozen times but he could never deny his brother that pleasure.

She was silent, obedient to his current power and looking onto him with wide, doe eyes. It hardly made it easy to refrain from.

"Have your fun with the former cripple, but go to my brother soon, or I will have to ruin the legacy of Ragnar and his sons"

And just as abruptly as he entered her space, he had left it.

Lofn let out a heavy breath she had held captive in her lungs and slumped down to her bottom.

The young woman felt defeated, violated and discouraged at the very same time. All heavy, taxing emotions that made her second guess her task at hand. She would have to go back to Ivars room, frightened and burdened with another heavy load to carry on her own.


	16. AN

Hello my wonderful readers,

I have been having a wonderful time writing and will continue to do so, however, My family is going through a rough time right now. I will need to have some time away to be with them, so I'm writing this from the hospital because I feel very loyal to all of you, for being so loyal to me. I should be home later in the evening and by tomorrow, I should have chapter that I wrote in bits this week.

You guys are the best and I'm having a tough time right now, my uncle is in rough shape and we're not sure if he is going to make it. It's incredibly upsetting, as you could imagine, so it's bringing up some old wounds from losing others near and dear to me.

I hope you can all understand and I will try my very best to have a chapter up.

Cheers,

Lofndotter


	17. Games and Scars

**A/N:**

 **Hey everyone, I just would like to start by saying thank you for all the prayers and well wishes, it meant a lot. My uncle pulled through, for now. He is back home but has to get blood transfusions** **regularly. I'm also incredibly gracious and humbled by your continued support for this story and I'm hoping to get another chapter up before the weekend is through.**

 **Sorry about the wait, I hope this makes up for it and I'll try to have another one up soon! Thanks again!**

 **-Lofndotter**

 **Chapter Fifteen:**

 **Games and Scars**

Lofn had made her way back to his room, her footing, unsteady and yet, she moved with the intent to seek out comfort behind the heavy door. The crowd had become a shaking blur of faces and bodies. Her own form felt inherently intoxicated by Harald's threatening words, that not so deeply down in her soul, she knew to be true. The brunette made it inside, her hands still trembling from fear. She rung them out in a desperate attempt to make them stop, with the same method most used to shake off pins and needles.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling the urge to clean herself.

His heated breath still warmed her skin, she could feel the phantom touch lingering, threatening her safety and the lives of those around her. The half-Dane recalled the warning of the seer, but his words had almost directly pointed to Halfdan being the one to not be underestimated, not his older brother. Not that any of these men should be underestimated in any way, shape or, form. She wondered if she had interpreted it wrong, Halfdan would leave her body (almost pleasantly) unsettled yes, but never in fear of its mortality in his presence. His elder brother on the other hand, Lofn imagined he would have absolutely no trouble plunging a sword, axe or pin through her heart and, enjoy it for certain.

'what do I do? How does this work? Would it kill these fucking men and gods to give me a straight answer?' She cursed the men, the gods and the severity of the entire situation in her head.

Lofn started to weigh her options, placing them bare and at the forefront of her mind.

On one side of the many-faced coin, she could run off, to another villiage and seek refuge as a healer then, grow old until death truly claimed her. That scenario would still hurt so many, without even drawing a weapon made of iron or steel.

Or, she could tell Ivar and risk his temper and truly test his affinity for cruelty. The fiercest son of Ragnar would kill Harald, and not with a simple beheading either, his death would be a mercy compared to the suffering Ivar would have him endure. After Ivar takes his life, the consequences would be catastrophic. Lofn was no fool, pride drove these men to extremes and she would most likely still lose Ivar in this scenario, as well as her own will.

It seemed now, the most prevalent choice in her head was to simply obey Harald, and stalk away with them into the night. It could free herself of these otherworldly burdens by doing so, and save those she had come to know and love from extinction, but it would break Ivar in the process. It physically pained her heart to even think of it as a valid contender, yet so far, it seemed the only logical one. she quelled the ache by pouring a glass of sweet, forgetful liquid and guzzled it down.

The amber beverage pointed to how she wished for a clock at this moment, to memorize and point out the time to the very second with spite when Ivar strolled in. She had never been that type of girlfriend in her former life though, and there was no point in starting now. In lew of that, she felt a lurch of awareness pertaining to this point in history. These men didn't atone for wrongdoings, and she hardly expected Ivar to show his remorse at leaving her alone after their heated coupling, and the subsequent result of that.

When she reached for a refill of honeyed-ale, she found the vessel empty, and her body not near intoxicaed enough. It was a gentle buzz settling at the pit of her stomach, but she also attributed that to the slowly settling nerves as well. The young woman sighed and fell back onto the ruffled bed, her ochre eyes focusing on the thick beams above. She wondered how long they had been holding the ceiling up, how many jarls had gazed at the pinewood support system, pondering the very same thing.

Lofn must go to Halfdan, to talk to him at the very least. She had realized that a few sips ago, but did not wish to confirm its truth. A quick brood beneath the ceiling had solidified it all, she was meant to be one of them, a beam. Her purposed would be served holding up the history and traditions and she had to protect the inhabitants under that beam at all costs.

Lofn jumped suddenly at the sound of the door creaking open.

"Ivar." his name was always spoken like a offering to the gods on her lips. Pure to it's core, even when the tone was more angered in manner. He wore a smirk full of lust and satisfaction. Walking into his room with his woman waiting on his bed, her hair still ruffled and lips still swollen from their union had been the finishing touch to the evening. She stood to greet him, suddenly blank in her mind as to her troubles, losing herself in heat of a kiss. His tunic was soft beneath her slender fingers and heat began to find its way back to her core, completey forgetting any decison or delimea prior to now. Lofn could feel his grin, still playfuly plastered to his lips and she pulled back, her eyes leaving his to seek out an imaginary clock. Ivar could not be the only one capable of cruelty, but it would be a test to her own willpower as well.

She pulled back, a pout wiggling its way to the surface of her face.

"You could have told me you were leaving." She spun on her heels and made way for a carved chair, sitting down with the grace of a queen. " Where did you go?" Lofn questioned with a quirked brow.

Ivar was onto her, even before her face fell into a displeased glower, but he was the master of mind games around here. He expected her to question him, she was certainly not the type to just let things be, but he had hardly expected this show of game.

Ivar allowed his face to fall into a facade of discontent, his eyes blazing.

"It should not matter to you where I go." He licked his lips, grinning malicously for a brief moment before his gaze turned predatory and he began the short stomp to loom over her frame in hte chair. The young warrior trapped his prey, settling each hand on the armrests, locking her in place and holding her gaze.

"It does matter, Ivar. I woke up with an emptiness that needed fulfulment."

It was the first moment he saw a different side to her natural wit, she was breathy and purposeful in her words. She was a vixenous little wolf, playing into his character, goading him to lose control because it was exactly what she desired.

His lips hovered over her mouth, he would not be able to deny his already grown need to take her a second time this evening but he hated losing. She was clearly wanton, her heartbeat practically thuderous in sound.

"That is not the talk of a respectable healer."

He whispered and pulled back, she tried to conceal the disapointed sigh when he moved to sit on the bed.

Ivar smiled wickedly then, pulling the grey tunic over his head.

"Do you want me to be more respectable then?" She challenged.

"No." He awnsered. " I want you to burn that dress and never leave this room."

His tone was set to inspire her obidence. He leaned back on his forearms, eagerly awaiting her compliance and he silently claimed his victory when she stood up and walked toward him.

"You don't command me, Ivar." She stated. "But it is very warm in this room."

She smirked as she began to pull her gown loose, letting it tumble to the floor. She stood, bare and proud before him watching his eyes roam the expanse of her skin and now sure she had gained the upper hand.

"If I burn this, will you tell me where you were?"

"No." He replied.

His hands began to wander, holding her hips tightly and pulling Lofn closer to where he sat. They tortuously slid over the winding curve to grab hold of her waist, controlling her movements to straddle his waist.

Her eyes shut, momentarily disracted from this game of wills, his rough calloused hands felt delicious against her velvety skin, but she was soon pulled back to the world when his hands stopped along the expanse of her scar that started behind her ear. She paused and pulled back to look at him, she could see something flash across his eyes akin to anger directed to who or what had been the cause of it.

Suddenly, Ivar had new intent.

"I'll tell you where I've been, after you tell me who gave this to you."

She tried to pull away but there was no use fighting a man with more than double the physical brawn she possesed. It was a memory she praticed forgetting, a painful blemish on her heart that she had long since thrown behind her. Lofn could see the resolution in his stabbing, saphire gaze.

"My mother burned me."

She could hardly look him in the eye, instead chosing to focus on his chiseled collar bone and how well the pendant she made suited him. The young woman called to mind, the day her mothers jealousy had finally reared its ugly head into action rather than words. When instead of calling her names, she took it out on her silky mane, purposely veering the path of the curling iron to char her, a girl of seven and unable to fight back. It had been lucky her father came home when he did that day, and he had taken her away from it all.

Ivar shifted her weight on his lap, his face had contorted with ire, his breathing became ragged with the bud of vengeful fury. He was ready to grab his sword and hunt this poor example of a mother down, but he felt her delicate hands on his chest, tracing soothing circles over scars and hard flesh.

"I dont know where she is, my father took me away."

"How could a mother do such a thing?" His question was genuine and came from a place of disbelief.

It was hard to imagine a man that would do such horrific, unspeakable things would be so affected by the circumstances of a peice of mared skin. His own mother had not been the kindest of women but she had not wished harm on any of her children.

Lofn had to put it into terms he could understand. They were obviously unaware of modern medicine and the technologies it brought. Her brother had been brought into this world as a stillborn and the brunt of her mothers disapointment rested on Lofn's shoulders.

"When I was born, I was meant to be a twin. My brother died and she hated me for it." She did not wait for his reaction, istead she reached between them to pull the laces open on his breeches. Of course she thought it to be in poor taste , however, she did not care and wanted to take her mind off the pain and feel pleasure instead. He pulled her hands back, but she offered an explanation. "Please, can we talk of something else. Or do something else?" She forced a weak smile. " You owe me an explanation now."

That he did. In spite of his urge to prode her further, or attempt to find where this vile woman lived, he complied with Lofn's request.

"I was with my brothers, and some others." He wouldn't say the name, he did not wish to recognize Halfdan in front of her and remind his existance.

"You were planning your attack on the saxons?"

He nodded in response, forgetting his rage and remembering the flushed, bare woman that needed tending to in his arms. He kissed between her breasts, "We sail come mid spring." His lips moved to the right, kissing and licking at the mound of silky flesh. "So you'll leave me empty again?" she breathed out her question, half serious, half in jest. History knocked on the doors of her mind, she would be left here for almost two years, at least.

As if he sensed her realization, Ivar halted his mistrations and looked up into her lovely, amber eyes.

"You think I'm going to leave you behind for someone else to claim?"

The brutish viking gave Lofn no time to awnswer, he grabbed behind her thighs and flipped her onto the bed. If she needed to be distracted, he would use the rest of the night to comply.

When she woke the next morning, her body was incredibly tender from the exquisite pleasure it had revelled in. The spot next to her was no longer cool, instead it was filled with a large, warm body resting peacefully. He was venerable like this, completley stripped of armour and dreaming away, it was hard to imagine him as a man so menacing that his very name would cause shudders of fear for hundreds of years to come. Lofn brought her gaze back up to the ceiling and was reminded of her self realized duties.

She would have to speak with Halfdan, and sooner rather than later, but first, she would need a scrubbing and change of clothing.

Careful not to disturb her beautiful Ivar, she rolled out of bed and tried to move as quietly as possible, but he stired anyways. He did not open his eyes when he spoke. "Where are you going?" his voice was still groggy from sleep. Lofn walked over to his side and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Go back to sleep, I need to bathe and change, then I need a walk. I'm not sure the next time you'll let me take fresh air." She laughed out the last bit, elicting a wicked grin from Ivar but whom only grunted in response and rolled over and back to sleep.

The young Dane tiptoed her way back into her chambers and shut the door, allowing a deep breath to refresh her strength.

Today was going to be a tough one.


	18. A bewildered Beauty

Chapter Sixteen:

The Bewildered Beauty:

Lofn had stayed beneath the waters in the wooden tub until the water ran frigid, her thick head of waves had almost finished air drying by the time she stepped out. She set half of her hair up, into a dark crown of braids, she dressed warmly in a forest green gown, trimmed in black and her grandmother had embroidered a wolf set in flowers across the chest. It had belonged to the old healer, and worn only once before for a yule celebration. Save for that, she had decided to save it, along with all the other gowns she had crafted over the years spent waiting for Lofn to cross the plains and settle into her destined life.

Her plain, grey cloak fastened at her shoulders and she covered her head with the hood before slipping out into the bustle of the day. The young woman took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, invigorating her once again. At first glance, there seemed to be an extra bustle about. Bearded men carried ropes and crates of supplies, their sigils and banners bearing allegiance to King Harald. Some came pouring out of taverns and boarding houses, still wasted on mead and wine and women. Ubbe was among them, jolly in spirit with a blonde on each arm but he scooted them away, giggling as they went. She rolled her eyes, certain that there were few women in Kaategat that had yet fallen to his charms. Lofn could have sworn she had seen at least three women drag him away after mere seconds and a simple glance.

Though she would never fall prey to his charisma, it was endearing to see women in charge of their own bodies and choosing their partners with some freedom (even if it's only just Ubbe).

Harald was walking beside him, hand clapping his shoulder, laughing merrily at a joke she could not quite hear and assumed she wouldn't actually enjoy the tone of it. Knowing the second eldest Lodbrok, his sense of humour could be vastly crude, and while she was no prude herself, they could sometimes be a bit much.

Lofn froze in place when Harald locked eyes with her, his, cold, blue eyes were searing and commanding. She felt the same fear that had almost crippled her the previous night, she wanted him to know her intentions but had to go unnoticed by Ubbe. As if sensing her need for a private audience, the Norwegian king bid a solid farewell to the blonde man. He stumbled past her, almost bumping into her shoulders. He was still drunk from the night before and she would keep that bit of knowledge in her back pocket, hoping there would come a time when she could use it as ammo to taunt. Her light simper was washed away when coming all but face to face with the stalky, deadly man. He came close enough to smell the lavender oil on her skin, but she felt more brave today with the clamour about, at least if he stabbed her she would have enough witnesses.

"You look even more lovely this morning." He purred like a ravenous mountain lion.

She was unsure of whether or not to reply but her mouth had decided for her. "You look particularly sick from drink this morning."

Inwardly she cursed herself for giving him reason to want to harm her even more that he does now, but to her surprise, an honest, good-natured laugh bellowed out from the Viking king. His thick, rough hand rested gently on her arm and his eyes became more amiable than ill-tempered.

"You'll have to forgive me Lofn. You see, Halfdan is the only brother I have. The only person in this world, other than my wife and my own sons that I love."

It would be foolish to forgive his aggressive behaviour, or forget it and she wore a leery look across her face.

"I'm sure you meant every word, King Harald."

He flashed her a toothy grin, a glint in his eye silently eluding to the dead on statement of his intent. He would not hesitate to harm her, in any circumstance and most faithfully, if she refused to comply with any command he made. Harald was aware that this would ultimately come down to his brothers word.

"Who are you talking to brother."

The man in question had emerged from the lodgement, peeling at an apple with a freshly sharpened dagger, forged by his own hand. He stood casually in the frame of the abode, dressed in a lovely, ocean blue tunic. It was hardly threatening of course, none of them seemed it when out of their armour. There would be no mistake to be made, no matter what these men chose to cover their bodies in, it would not take away one ounce of brutality they possessed.

"I found you a goddess to walk with this fine morning." Harald gleamed smugly at the young woman, content with the position he had locked her in.

A flicker of defiance spread on her face from cheek to cheek in the form of a smile, a show of strength outwardly, while her nerves shook internally.

Halfdan had yet to recognize her face from behind the should of grey wool until she turned head on. She wanted to laugh, the moment he identified Lofn, his back stood straight, his posture tall, proud and formidable.

The brunette glided towards him, her intentions set and carved into stone. She approached him calmly and with ease, the look on his face almost appeared bewildered by her sudden presence, though he was quick to recover. His semblance took on the same permeating intensity as always with the added sprinkle of deep prurience that gave his dark eyes a boyish glint.

"Good morning." He was eager to speak.

"Good morning." Her lips curled into an amiable grin. "Is there a place we could speak, Halfdan?" Lofn tried to keep her voice free of too many emotions, she didn't wish to show any signs of nervousness or dismay. Although, if she showed such a weakness, perhaps he would no longer want her and forget his desire.

There was an urgency in her voice that he wanted to mistake for need, but what very little he understood of women was plain.

He nodded and they began to stroll in silence. She was trying to hide something from him, probably fearful to leave a blemish on his impression of her. There was nothing to hide, Halfdan had been aware of her resting place the night before, and it cut through him more than he wished to admit. He had sulked away, vowing to the gods that he would cripple that boy again, cut out every bone until he truly lived up to his name, then take those bones and build a home to shelter the woman that belonged to him. As he brooded into endless horns of ale, he blasted his own stupidity for not claiming her sooner. Harald had attempted to lift his spirits with a pretty blonde, but all he could do was close his eyes and silence the wench, finishing roughly and quickly with the thought of Lofn fresh in his mind.

He had never dreamt of this, that he would be so recklessly enamoured with a woman. Love had never been an option, women were for breeding and managing the homestead while their husbands raided and raped. Hafdan himself had even scoffed at the withered old seer when he relayed the fate of a dark haired woman entering his life, but then there was Lofn. And, that very moment he caught sight of her, he wanted her. Time meant nothing, not for his kind at least, men married women they had never met before every day. As sure as the blade of his sword, he needed her and though it might not be today, he knew it would be worth some practiced patience.

It felt as though the silence had been long passed between them, too long. Lofn's anxiety claimed the better of her and she was first to break it.

"You're leaving so soon?"

There was an inflection on her words, which he caught right away and smiled with a gleam of mischief. They had walked to a small grove of trees behind the lodgings, far from any prying eyes but close enough that someone may hear her scream.

She was caught off guard by his sudden closeness, but Lofn made show of moving away, convinced instead that her brain had momentarily detached from her legs.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Up close she could admire the colour of his eyes, even beneath the long lock of sandy blonde acting as a veil to one. There was an enticing complexity to the brown, flecks of honey-gold and green scattered amidst the light brown hue. The black of his pupils were becoming overbearing, a sense of lustful amity washing over them. His Norse was spoken differently than the Danes, there was more rolling of the tongue with an a syrupy, almost soft spoken tone.

She could smell the ale and apple on his breath, the ash from the fire and earth on his skin. It was too close to feel comforted but she hoped for the sake of everyone involved that Ivar did not seek her out. Every ounce of the blood spilled would be on her hands.

"I.." She stuttered, "Your..your brother."

"What did he do now?" He scoffed and shook his head, the curtain of blonde finally shifting from his eyes. Of course he was expecting his brother to have played his hands. A king of a man with no patience left to spare, attempting to force the hands of fate. "Did he frighten you?"

Halfdan contained his laughter, she had shot him a look of offence that he would accuse her of such venerability. That of course meant, Yes. She possessed the hands of a healer, not those of a warrior. Any physical threat from a man three times her strength would cause alarm, he did not fault her for it.

"He was very.." She struggled to find the words, teetering one whether or not she should tell him, or try to avoid offending him. "Intense." That seemed ambiguous enough.

He replied with a light hearted chuckle and staggered back momentarily before regaining his grounding, painfully close to Lofn.

He could smell the fresh lavender oils and would memorize it well, the same was true for the sound of her breath and beating of her heart.

"I'm sorry."

Lofn wasn't sure she truly needed to apologize, but she felt a fool. Now she would have to explain why she was atoning and risk more anger. Maybe it would throw him off her scent, send him back hating her. It would be easier that way and besides, what men decide they're going to pursue a woman in a days time? 'these men' her conscious reminded her. She inhaled sharply as a flash of loathing and violence spread across his face, and the woman kept it there, waiting.

"I'm not angry with you, Lofn."

She exhaled softly, relived that no ounce of his anger was for her. It would be foolish to underestimate anyone, especially Halfdan the Black. His amatory ogle returned at her reaction, so he took his opportunity to get in a few words.

His body closed in, rounding on her, forcing her legs to move backwards.

"I'm cross with myself." Further back she went, rushing backwards like obedient prey. "For not taking you under the light of the moon." His voice was hushed.

Her quavering limbs were moving on their own accord, obeying Halfdans steps as though he were the architect to every motion. Her back hit a thick pine tree, her breath slowed and became shallow with uncertainty for how her body reacted to him. Her heart rate felt unmanageable, as though it would leap from her throat. She was frightened by the stir of something inside her. It was unlike the unbridled, pure passion she felt for Ivar. Lofn felt uneasy, rattled even, but it was that fearfulness that powered the heat in her core, as if the instability fuelled the desire. Her whole intent became disorganized in her mind as he carried on and she, rendered speechless by her own bewilderment.

"Then stealing you away, before that boy could get his hands on you."

His hands found themselves woven into her dark locks, and his face gave the impression that the touch had lived up to what he had imagined it to be. All she could to was close her eyes, trying to slow her heart and steady her low panting. She inhaled sharply at the slick sound of steal being unsheathed and her eyes shot open to find his eyes trained on her, giving away nothing more than the same fervour.

The small blade moved down, ghosting the embroidery on her fleece gown and making a mental note of how complimentary the colour was on her. How it brought out the golden specs in her big, lovely eyes now even wider with anticipation, fear and what he contentedly perceived as desire. She was frozen in his grasp, submissive and docile in his proximity. He smiled, retaining this new, flushed look on her face.

Halfdan twirled a hard finger around a rogue curl and swiftly moved the dagger to chop a few inches of a curl. He would keep this, as a token, a reminder and charm of luck in battle should his skill fail him. A piece of what would be wholly his soon enough.

"You could have just asked." Her breathy voice sounded.

"Sometimes I don't like to ask." His finger replaced the blade, tracing the wolf at her chest, " Little wolf."

Without warning or caution, Halfdan kissed her with urgency. It was warm, heady and felt vicious against her soft lips. She was surprised that it did not feel unwelcome, rather the sensation was still that of complete turbulence. The aggressiveness of his lips was the alluring component, as if his control gave power to the craving.

However, he had pulled away almost instantly, leaving the bruising remnants behind.

Lofn felt numb, hot and freezing all at once. She had forgotten her purpose, misplaced her tongue.

He only grinned, wicked and puffed up with pride at her reaction. He wanted to remain, no he wanted to bunch up the skirts to that pretty green dress and slide himself inside but he had dreamt up a plan, in the wee hours of the morning.

" We'll be seeing each other soon, Little wolf."

He turned and strolled away, looking back a few times and simply laughing at the awe on her face, then to shock when she held up his blade in one hand and half eaten apple in the other.

Lofn had found her way to the beach. She stood there, close enough to the docks to watch Halfdan and his brother sail away with their small force of men. She caught his eye and offered a cheeky smile, trying to hide her confusion and the plain truth that he had rattled her to her core.

She bit into the apple and could almost hear his laughter from across the bay.

 **A/N:**

 **Omg, I know I know, some of you hate Halfdan but remember, whatever happens is pertinent to the story, otherwise whats the point. Thanks everyone for the continued support and hello to new readers !**

 **More chapters to come next week. There will be a few jumps in time coming up (literally like weeks or months) So stay tuned and soon, Off to Conquer the Britons.**

 **Thanks again,**

 **Peace**


	19. The taste of Game

A/N: Hi friends! Thanks for all the love and support, hope you enjoy this next chapter. I know some of you hat Halfdan, and I know some of you love him..I personally think he's a good addition, plus the actor who plays him is gorgeous.

will next time :)

Chapter 17:

The Taste of Game

Winter had coated Kaattegat with a fresh coat of snow, and the small kingdom had slowed down. Save for a brave few merchants, the trading centre stayed almost silent. Lofn had been wise enough to hoard supplies for the season and with her grandmother's tired old bones acting up in the cold, she needed them. It had been almost three months since the incident with Halfdan, and she had kept it secret, hidden away in the back of her heart and mind. She was convinced that with the time he spent in his own home, far from Kaattegat that he would omit her from his thoughts. By the time Yule had rolled around, her self persuasions were rendered untrue. King Harald had sent an Yuletide offering of Norse brotherhood with barrel after barrel of mead and while the men were seven horns deep into the gift, Lofn was handed an ornate wooden box. She could still smell the fresh pine and the design held no enigmatic messages, only a simple design of elegant swirls. When she had opened it up, she found herself speechless at its content, a wolf totem necklace with eyes carved out of amber, encased in a bronze bezzel. It was small, beautiful and delicate, enough to hide and keep to herself completely. The guilt had built up since them, like a nauseating root growing in the pit of her stomach, because she realized she had indeed felt something for him. The gnarl had tightened when she lied to Ivar about its origins, stating plainly that it had been her grandmothers once, she loved him to much to upset the entirety of his legacy over it.

The young Dane had braved the cold to set a broken bone, a boy the age of Refil had miscalculated the depth of a snowbank before leaping in without a second guess. He had been lucky to land on his side, a collar bone was far easier to set without the luxuries of her old world than a broken leg. His name, she found out, was Dag and he was tall like Bjorns oldest but lanky in stature and his eyes were hazel and full of good intended mischief. He was a flirtatious boy, cocksure and well spoken for his age and she played into his little games to distract him from the inevitable pain the quick procedure would cause. He still cried out in the way a pup would if you accidentally stepped on their tail and she felt sympathy, of course, the boy had no sedative. They felt every bit of pain that alcohol could not dull, and though morally she wasn't ecstatic about suggesting he drink a strong wine to cute the ache, it was the merciful thing to do.

Lofn had trudged through the snow, wrapped up tightly in Ivars heavy, fur lined cloak. Her stomach was rumbling, begging for food and even though Dag's family had offered food, her stomach had rejected the idea of cheese that morning. She ate a few chunks of bread and sipped on warm cider out of respect but now, she was completely famished and utterly exhausted. Hvitserk sat alone, facing the fires, a reserved look of constant contemplation on his face. He was a tough one to read, or even engage in conversation, save for the few times she had caught him several drinks deep.

"Good morning, Hvitserk." She offered, pulling the lined mitts from her hands. She was surprised when he turned to offer a cheeky smile and amiable "Good morning." The sons of Ragnar all seemed to grin the same grin, a thought she had voiced over a yuletide feast. 'Only when we see beautiful women.' Ubbe had replied. It had cost him a deathly glare and horn refill, the Ivar had grabbed her quickly and hid her away for the rest of the evening. Lofn could not begin to complain about that outcome, there were unquestionably worse ways to spend your evenings than to be tangled up with a fierce, Viking lover. She was just as insatiable as Ivar, spending every, free, waking moment beneath, above or in front of him.

She was reminded of her hunger when the smell of smokey, tender meat hit her nose and her stomach began to perform feats of splendour to push the brain to move forward and devour the entire tray. It was almost midday, the cook had lined the tables with fresh breads, potatoes, boiled eggs, apples, carrots, turkey and venison. Her stomach was betraying the morality of her former life, one that she had actively cultivated. She had avoided eating animals for seven years, but now she found herself at the mercy of forest game. Before she had time to think about her actions she broke off a chunk of bread, opened it up and filled it with the sweet and savoury smelling meat. She bit into it, the pieces melting away like a velvety cloud on her tongue, immediately satiated and the aversion in her stomach, gone.

" I thought you don't eat any animals?" Hvitserk's voice had snapped her out of the meat induced coma she was slowly slipping into.

"I don't" she replied, unaware of her contradictory actions when she took another bite. "Oh, Shit!" She exclaimed, putting the sloppily made sandwich down. He only laughed at her actions, bellowing out a hearty chuckle. For some reason, Lofn took offence to his reaction and pursed her lips in annoyance.

" You should be eating it, keeps you strong in the winter." And just like that, he returned to his position, stoking the fire and exuding indifference. The suddenly grouchy healer made her way to the room she now shared with Ivar, preparing to scold him for sleeping so late in the morning, even though, truthfully she wanted to be sleeping too. Her partially clothed lover was seated beside the roaring fire in the corner, going over maps that raiders had drawn up of the Anglo-Saxon lands. When he wasn't busy breathing his Lofn in, his oxygen of choice was battle and the strategy involved with it. Sensing her light step he spoke, his head turned to take her in. "How did the boy fair?" he asked. Ivar didn't particularly care but he loved her and her work was important to her, and it was another excuse to hear her voice.

"Well enough, its an easy bone to set." She moved to sit in the chair opposing him and with the sheer length of his body, their knees always touch when seated by the fire. It was their peaceful zone, a place to decompress and speak their minds, or stay completely silent. Lately, more often than not, Ivar could be found studying maps or, written accounts from his father and those most loyal to him. He, himself had only visited the lands once as they had favoured raiding along eastern shores the past several years.

This was widely different, it wasn't a run for treasures, this was a quest for vengeance, land and victory over these Christians.

He felt her hand rest on his covered knee and her smile levelled out the budding anger in his core. She looked lovely this morning, the same as every part of the day, her face glowing against the embers. They had already coupled this morning, but he felt ravenous once more.

Lofn noticed the shift in his eyes. She was akin to his temperament and to most, Ivar had three looks to his face, murderous, deviously playful or, indifferent, but she was aware of a great deal more. A soft hand on his knee was usually enough to catch his attention and her eyes played witness to the quick slip from anger to arousal. Ignoring the dull ache of hunger, she braced herself for the oncoming, always welcome activity.

"How is planning the battle, Ivar?" She inquired. It was something she had chosen to keep herself closed off to for the past few months, he only divulged certain things, like how a shield wall works and the places to strike a man that would be most affective. It was difficult to bite her tongue in pressing for more, Lofn had mountains of insight, she was aware how every battle would turn out in the end. Ivar pondered her question, he had valued her judgement above any other, and though she was hardly a shield maiden, she may have something to offer. So he toyed with the idea, opening his legs and sliding her sitting form closer.

"We know the way, the shores to land on, where their elaborate longhouses are."

"Castles, Ivar. They're called castles."

His head snapped backwards, impressed and slightly shocked by her fact. He grinned, coking his head to the side. "And how do you know this?" Her smile matched his own in curious mirth, she clasped onto his rough hands, flipping them and mindlessly scrolling her fingers around.

"I don't know how much the seer told you, but as much as I am a Dane, I'm not from this time." Lofn expected his eyes to bulge from his head and his mouth to jest and tease her for saying something that would seem crazy most. "I know." It was plainly spoken and left room for her own shock before continuing.

"Where I am from, I learned a great deal about these Saxons. Their stone walls and large fortresses are not impossible to get past, but," She halted briefly, bringing a calloused hand to her lips to worship with a kiss. "I also know that you will be victorious, if you exact patience, which I know you're terrible at doing."

A great show of roguishness spread across her face, very few were courageous enough to draw attention to Ivar's flaws.

He ground his teeth beneath pursed lips, suddenly second guessing imploring her opinion, still he remained calm. Annoyed, yet, still. His Lofn's intentions were to poke at him with levity, amuse his severity.

"I can be patient." He lightly snarled.

The dark haired healer kissed his hand once more. "Not just you, Ivar. Your brothers, your people need to be patient once you claim the shores."

His rapacious, cobalt eyes followed her actions. He wanted to grab her roughly and pull her onto his lap, then..well, in his own defence, she made it near impossible to be patient in his need for her. Ivar refrained from doing so out of petty spite, but if she kept kept doting on his hands like that, it would be her own doing, she spoke again, her legs slowly moving to stand then straddle his hips.

" They've been preparing for your invasions ever since your father stormed their shores all those years ago. You cannot just storm every castle you find." She ground against him, playing into a dangerous game.

Ivars hands moved instinctively to grip onto her waist and roam the magnificently round curves of her body. She smacked his hand "Patience, Ivar." She purred, rubbing her bare core over his concealed arousal. He gasped and growled in response. " I can wait to storm a castle, my Lofn. I won't wait to conquer you."

Just like that, her stunt was blocked from continuing and she squeaked out so loudly, she was certain the whole kingdom would hear when he grabbed on tightly and picked her up.

They shared an amused, hearty laugh and the human melted away into unfiltered intensity. A tangled mess of naked, glistening limbs as they moved in unison. There was something indescribable between them, all other thoughts ceased when they came together. He molded into her sweet, tight essence, and both parties adored, idolized every bit of skin between them, committing every moment to memory.

After a good few moments of deep breathing, she suddenly felt that budding knot rising in her stomach. It must have been the meat, of course it was the meat. Lofn leaped from the bed and grabbed a hold of an empty water bucket, them eager contents of her stomach spilled out, ruining the tender moments between the two lovers.

Ivar was at her side in a flash, pulling back her soft, dark tendrils. The look of dread was quickly replaced with a look of satisfaction and amusement. When she had finished her unladylike heaving, she paused and looked up to see his face. " You think this is funny?"

Irritation flashed into realization, she wasn't sure how to feel but she knew one thing for certain.

" I need my Amma to come into town."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N. Hello friends,

I just wanted to let you know that I have moved this story to Tumblr under ingauflrdotter and revising it somewhat, sticking truer to history than the show. Of course, I will still use what the cast look like as a format. Thank you for your loyalty, hope to see you on tumblr.

It's just easier and more convenient for me to post this way.


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